So we were shopping for Benjamin's birthday gift, and we stumbled upon the bubble section. Benjamin loves bubbles and makes the cutest little popping noise when he pops them. This can get quite animated at times and it's hilarious. He claps his hands together as if to squish the bubble and says pop pop, or sometimes op op. Either way it's adorable.
Sooo... we thought that the hippo that blows bubbles out of it's mouth would be a wonderful gift. Supposedly, you pull the trigger on it's back and voila, out come the bubbles. Well, this did not go over as well as intended. He started to get the fat lip immediately (this dates back to when he was tiny and Warren used to unintentionally scare him with vibrating noises), so we knew it wasn't good, but we kept trying waiting for the bubbles to come out to cheer him up. The bubbles never came out.
He was pretty much screaming at this point, so we thought that a little cake would make him feel better. Every kid likes cake, right? He did like the cake, but was still mad about the hippo, so he cried on and of throughout eating it (which was sorta funny) and was upset again after about 5 minutes because it was then all over his hands... this is the same kid who thrives on messy dirt hands, so we have no idea what that was all about.
We did get a few pictures of the event. We actually had flashbacks to last year's birthday because the same thing happened. Maybe it's going to be a trend where he screams on his birthday? Maybe next year we will play the "It's my party and I'll cry if I want to" song before we start opening presents. lol... it was funny though. Poor kid.
So my story sums up with this: beware of the hippos.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Friday, January 23, 2009
New Era
For the times, they are a-changin'....
Now, of course, that song by Bob Dylan was about a more serious topic than Benjamin's Birthday, but it pretty much sums up how I feel today.
Today marks the event of Benjamin's birth two years ago, and it is as much a happy occasion as it is a sad occasion. Well, maybe sad is a harsh word. Perhaps meloncholy would be a better choice. Today marks the day that I can no longer call him a baby and must refer to him by years rather than months. It always sounds a little ridiculous to me when people refer to their children as months when it gets past 24. So he's officially two now. Well, if you want to get all technical, he was born January 23rd 10:08 PM, Hawaii Standard Time, which is actually January 24 for the rest of the country. Interesting little fact there. We're celebrating on the 23rd even though the rest of the family actually found out on the 24th. It's sort of like a leap year anomaly. :)
So the times, yes, they are a changing for sure. Each day is a fun day filled with adventures galore. He's such a sweet child and I'm so lucky to have him.
Happy Birthday, Benjamin!
Now, of course, that song by Bob Dylan was about a more serious topic than Benjamin's Birthday, but it pretty much sums up how I feel today.
Today marks the event of Benjamin's birth two years ago, and it is as much a happy occasion as it is a sad occasion. Well, maybe sad is a harsh word. Perhaps meloncholy would be a better choice. Today marks the day that I can no longer call him a baby and must refer to him by years rather than months. It always sounds a little ridiculous to me when people refer to their children as months when it gets past 24. So he's officially two now. Well, if you want to get all technical, he was born January 23rd 10:08 PM, Hawaii Standard Time, which is actually January 24 for the rest of the country. Interesting little fact there. We're celebrating on the 23rd even though the rest of the family actually found out on the 24th. It's sort of like a leap year anomaly. :)
So the times, yes, they are a changing for sure. Each day is a fun day filled with adventures galore. He's such a sweet child and I'm so lucky to have him.
Happy Birthday, Benjamin!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
sign language
Yes, nap time again, so I'm blogging. Warren has recently labeled me an "inspirational blogger". lol... funny man he is. I blog to collect my thoughts and share them with others so they may smile, laugh, and have a better day.
I've always been fascinated with sign language. I'm not really sure where this fascination stems from since I've never known anyone who had significant hearing loss that required the use of sign language. The letter charts have always been fun for me to sit and memorize, but I've never retained the vast majority of the letters since I have no one to practice with. Warren, however, has known the charts for years and years, and never forgets them. He has amazing abilities of retaining information. He has oodles of information tucked away in his brain and pulls them out at the right moments.
So anyway, back to the whole point of this entry, Benjamin's teacher has been teaching him sign language. No, he doesn't have a hearing problem. The theory with autistic children, and all other late talkers actually, is that communicating with signs lessens the frustrations the child has with not being able to communicate their needs and desires. Some parents discourage this education due to the irrational thinking that it will make their children speak even later in life. Most children learn the sign, learn to put the word with the sign, and eventually, drop the sign altogether. Benjamin's first sign was "more" and it is basically just putting your finger tips together with your palms inward. It is easy for children to use this sign for several situations, thus making the use more frequent, thus boosting their self-esteem and willingness to cooperate with teachers/parents.
I really think that I was happier with Benjamin's first sign experience than I was with his first word. (As many of you know, Benjamin had words and then lost them around 15-16 months.) Of course, this is from the same Mom that loves that her child is left-handed... what can I say? I love that my child is different and it makes me a different kind of Mom...
I know that most people wouldn't trade places with me even if they were paid, but I wouldn't trade places with them either.
I've always been fascinated with sign language. I'm not really sure where this fascination stems from since I've never known anyone who had significant hearing loss that required the use of sign language. The letter charts have always been fun for me to sit and memorize, but I've never retained the vast majority of the letters since I have no one to practice with. Warren, however, has known the charts for years and years, and never forgets them. He has amazing abilities of retaining information. He has oodles of information tucked away in his brain and pulls them out at the right moments.
So anyway, back to the whole point of this entry, Benjamin's teacher has been teaching him sign language. No, he doesn't have a hearing problem. The theory with autistic children, and all other late talkers actually, is that communicating with signs lessens the frustrations the child has with not being able to communicate their needs and desires. Some parents discourage this education due to the irrational thinking that it will make their children speak even later in life. Most children learn the sign, learn to put the word with the sign, and eventually, drop the sign altogether. Benjamin's first sign was "more" and it is basically just putting your finger tips together with your palms inward. It is easy for children to use this sign for several situations, thus making the use more frequent, thus boosting their self-esteem and willingness to cooperate with teachers/parents.
I really think that I was happier with Benjamin's first sign experience than I was with his first word. (As many of you know, Benjamin had words and then lost them around 15-16 months.) Of course, this is from the same Mom that loves that her child is left-handed... what can I say? I love that my child is different and it makes me a different kind of Mom...
I know that most people wouldn't trade places with me even if they were paid, but I wouldn't trade places with them either.
Friday, January 9, 2009
My surroundings
The older I get and the more I move, the more important it is to me to surround myself with people and things that I love. An outsider looking at my house would probably say it's just full of "stuff". My home is not a "show home" by any stretch of the means and is not a page in a magazine. However, so many of my possessions are irreplaceable and have meanings way beyond their face value.
An outsider would certainly realize my love for artwork because of the mass abundance of paintings hanging on the walls and scattered about the house, but would not know that my Grandmother painted most of them, thus making the paintings infinitely more valuable to me than any Monet hanging in a museum. Outsiders would see that I have an affinity for odd furniture, but would not know that the deacon's bench in the living room was handcrafted by my Grandfather, whom I adored as a child and miss as an adult; and that the ottoman perched on top of it matches the low back chair that once graced the house of my Great-Grandmother, whom I also adored as a child and miss as an adult; and that the artwork hanging above the bench is a painting of Ocean Springs, which is where Warren and I purchased our first home that was all but destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. They would notice three dime-store variety-type canisters in my kitchen filled with various beans and corn, but they would not know that these are the same canisters that my Mom used decades ago that have managed to survive countless household moves and that I regard them as precious as one of my antique china sets which individual plates value at more than $100, when the movers pack my house every three years. They would notice that the dining room has four unusual pieces of art hanging on the walls, but wouldn't know that the framed doilie was knitted by my Great-Grandmother and later framed by my Grandmother; and that the round painting of a gray house that looks almost identical to my childhood home was a wedding gift from my parents; and that the crayola scribblings displayed front and center is the handiwork of my baby sister, whom was blessed with wonderful creative abilities at a young age. They would see three stuffed teddy bears now displayed in Benjamin's room on a high shelf, but would not know that two of those bears belonged to his Mother and one belonged to his Father, and that his parents both remember the names of all three bears. I could go on and on...
I encourage you to surround yourself with things that you LOVE, not things that are simply on the clearance shelf at Pier One Imports. There are simply too many Jones' to keep up with in this world. I'm content with being a Gilliland.
An outsider would certainly realize my love for artwork because of the mass abundance of paintings hanging on the walls and scattered about the house, but would not know that my Grandmother painted most of them, thus making the paintings infinitely more valuable to me than any Monet hanging in a museum. Outsiders would see that I have an affinity for odd furniture, but would not know that the deacon's bench in the living room was handcrafted by my Grandfather, whom I adored as a child and miss as an adult; and that the ottoman perched on top of it matches the low back chair that once graced the house of my Great-Grandmother, whom I also adored as a child and miss as an adult; and that the artwork hanging above the bench is a painting of Ocean Springs, which is where Warren and I purchased our first home that was all but destroyed by Hurricane Katrina. They would notice three dime-store variety-type canisters in my kitchen filled with various beans and corn, but they would not know that these are the same canisters that my Mom used decades ago that have managed to survive countless household moves and that I regard them as precious as one of my antique china sets which individual plates value at more than $100, when the movers pack my house every three years. They would notice that the dining room has four unusual pieces of art hanging on the walls, but wouldn't know that the framed doilie was knitted by my Great-Grandmother and later framed by my Grandmother; and that the round painting of a gray house that looks almost identical to my childhood home was a wedding gift from my parents; and that the crayola scribblings displayed front and center is the handiwork of my baby sister, whom was blessed with wonderful creative abilities at a young age. They would see three stuffed teddy bears now displayed in Benjamin's room on a high shelf, but would not know that two of those bears belonged to his Mother and one belonged to his Father, and that his parents both remember the names of all three bears. I could go on and on...
I encourage you to surround yourself with things that you LOVE, not things that are simply on the clearance shelf at Pier One Imports. There are simply too many Jones' to keep up with in this world. I'm content with being a Gilliland.
New Blog
So I have the other blog: Benjaminsmamma, but that is entirely centered around Benjamin... and the parenting joys and dilemmas I encounter, so I figured that I should have another blog that is centered around the rest of my life. My musings, if you will. No idea how often this blog will be updated... perhaps more than the other one, perhaps less. It's fun to read comments, so if you have something to say, don't let your inhibitions stop you. I promise to be nice most of the time. :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
