“Cheese”

Naya has been coughing up a lung for about a week and on Thursday, her pediatrician thought that this lung might have pneumonia and sent me  and little Noosh (Naya) to get a chest X-ray.

I’m nervous about getting radiated myself, so imagine my glee when I had to shove my teeny little two year old in front of that huge machine. Now imagine me standing there remembering that I am her MOMMY and that it is my JOB not to worry her and to make everything okay.

So I did. I made it fun and she started to pose in front of the camera and as I stood covered in a led vest beside my teeny-tiny looking curly haired little girl wearing a lead apron.  We looked steadily ahead, shone a brilliant smile and yelled “CHEESE!” for the camera.

I think that there are very few rules we need to follow in order to be great parents, and one of them is not making our kids worry because they see us worry. So the next time you have to go to the doctor, ask them to listen to your heart too and get excited! Say cheese at the X-ray, try to eat the tongue depressor to make your little one laugh and make animal noises as the doctor peers into their ears search of animals or enough ingredients to make a stew.

That’s a tip from me to you, it’ll make the necessary Dr.’s calls or rigmaroles that much more fun your little love bug.

By the way, the technicians will let you see the x-ray if they see you are trying to make it all good for your little ones, and we got to see Naya beautifully clean, pneumonia-free lungs!

A.

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Who’s The Teacher Now?

In Naya speak, a Zucini is “zuccinini”, and in Spanish, chocolate is “col-a-te”. A Pineapple is a “pine-nut-apple”.

Naya is two, and the line between correction/instruction and just enjoying her “ism’s” is already blurry. My opinion is that children ought to be corrected, just not at every single opportunity. So 2-3 times out of five I will repeat whatever word she said with the correct pronunciation and she will then repeat that.

This works for me in that it satisfies what I see as a parental duty to instruct my child and my mommy duty to safeguard and encourage her self-esteem. A beautiful, delicate balance.

Interestingly, Naya corrects me too. Her method involves repeating every single thing I say or do. For instance, I say shit. Now Naya says shit. What’s curious is how well she applied it from the very first time the word tumbled out of her mouth. It was almost instinctive.

Obviously I can’t tell her not to say it, after all I do it – it’s not like I can say “No, no, that’s mommmy’s word. You can’t use it” Like I say about our exacto-knife, laptop, etc. So I can’t say it anymore. I doubt that my ability to express myself will diminish on account of not using the expletive, but I have discovered that in addition to being a verbal tool  it is an emotional one too.

Shoot just doesn’t offer me the same release. Neither does “fudge” or “flipping”.  Come to think of it, the only thing swearing does is emote. It doesn’t describe, instruct, explain, or inform. Perhaps, it’s become a short-cut to describing a feeling with real words that actually mean something.

Perhaps, Naya’s imitations are teaching my brain to actually speak again. Perhaps, what children do in addition to birthing a mother is birthing a new consciousness of self.

Thanks, kiddo!

A Tortured Tale of Poop

Naya has diahrrea. I changed her in the bathroom and she ran out all nu-nu (naked) and a little turd of soft, wet poop just “fell out”.

The dog sniffed it, ate it, and Naya went nuts!

“NOOOOOOOOO! BAAACK! C’est a Naya that! Is mine poop, Chloe”, she hollered amidst tears and feet stomping.

How adorable. I found it so funny that she was so possessive of her poop that she found the dog’s eating it offensive.

I’ve learned to put diapers on immediately. Diarrhea is hard on the potty-training.