So, I'm back to blogging. Well, till college classes start again anyway. Thanks go to LisAway at Away From it All and this post for the motivation. Go read her. She's awesome!
Monday, July 30, 2012
Loving My Second Language Skills
Over the last year I've taken two semesters of American Sign Language. I've always wanted to learn it, and loved my classes.
My girls were interested in learning at first, but then as with everything, their interest waned. Just to keep my skills up a bit I make them use it at church when they want to ask something. They go to whisper to me, and I sign to them, "No, sign it". Much eye rolling is followed by simple ASL signs. Love it!
So it was so cool when I subbed at a different special ed preschool for a week and actually got to use my skills! There is a deaf girl there. I signed with her a little on Mon. and Tues. but on Wed. the teacher (and main signer) was gone and this little girl was acting very sassy. It was as if she knew no one could really communicate with her so she was pushing her limits. That was until I went over and signed to her to knock it off, among other things. After we straightened things out we had a lot of fun playing and signing with each other. It seemed that she was almost craving someone to sign to. How fun!
Then a few weeks ago I was out with my girls and we made a stop where I was talking to someone, and I noticed the restroom nearby, so I signed to them real quickly asking if they needed to use it. The lady I was talking to, asked, "Are they hearing impaired?" I kind of had to laugh, and told her, "Um...no they're not, but their hearing is selective to be sure!"
ASL is a challenging language, but so rewarding to learn. Imagine being deaf. It would be almost like being in a foreign country all the time. Yes, deaf people can read and write, but usually very minimally. Think about trying to learn English if you couldn't hear it! I never thought about that either until I started learning about Deaf culture. So even if you only learn a few signs, it's worthwhile. A deaf person is so appreciative of your efforts to communicate with them.
My girls were interested in learning at first, but then as with everything, their interest waned. Just to keep my skills up a bit I make them use it at church when they want to ask something. They go to whisper to me, and I sign to them, "No, sign it". Much eye rolling is followed by simple ASL signs. Love it!
So it was so cool when I subbed at a different special ed preschool for a week and actually got to use my skills! There is a deaf girl there. I signed with her a little on Mon. and Tues. but on Wed. the teacher (and main signer) was gone and this little girl was acting very sassy. It was as if she knew no one could really communicate with her so she was pushing her limits. That was until I went over and signed to her to knock it off, among other things. After we straightened things out we had a lot of fun playing and signing with each other. It seemed that she was almost craving someone to sign to. How fun!
Then a few weeks ago I was out with my girls and we made a stop where I was talking to someone, and I noticed the restroom nearby, so I signed to them real quickly asking if they needed to use it. The lady I was talking to, asked, "Are they hearing impaired?" I kind of had to laugh, and told her, "Um...no they're not, but their hearing is selective to be sure!"
ASL is a challenging language, but so rewarding to learn. Imagine being deaf. It would be almost like being in a foreign country all the time. Yes, deaf people can read and write, but usually very minimally. Think about trying to learn English if you couldn't hear it! I never thought about that either until I started learning about Deaf culture. So even if you only learn a few signs, it's worthwhile. A deaf person is so appreciative of your efforts to communicate with them.
Sunday, July 29, 2012
Muddah uv Da Year, Fo Sho
I need a mother of the year award. I ran over my own child's foot. Jeez!
We were leaving the church 4th of July party and I thought Natalie was already in the car. I was distracted and tired and in the habit of starting the car as the girls are shutting their doors. Dumb.
I hear her scream and I think that she and Shelby are fighting. Again. But then she yells, "You're on my foot!" And it takes me a minute (not literally) to think that I need to back up the car and get off of her foot. Holy Crap.
I immediately scoop her up into the back seat and look at her foot, it's torn up a bit on one side and bruising on the other. Shelby is freaking out. Panicking. She runs up to get her church-uncle to help us.
I am not panicking, although I feel like crap about the whole thing. I take off her sandal thinking that if her foot starts swelling it will have to be cut off. I hold her foot in a towel. There's not much blood and I give it the once-over and it doesn't look broken.
Dan comes and carries her to his truck and shuttles her back to his house, then carries her to a chair in the backyard and begins icing her foot. He is wonderful, calm, reassuring. He has her push with her toes against his hand and says that he thinks she'll be fine. That if it were broken she couldn't do that. We give her Tylenol and I have to deal with the fact that the rest of the party goers know that I'm a horrible mom. Who drives over their own child's foot? Seriously?
I take her home and we continue to ice it. I'm surprised by how good it looks, considering. We got really lucky. The blessing is that Shelby is falling all over herself to take care of her sister. She's bringing her stuff, helping her walk and get dressed, wrapping her foot in an Ace bandage. It's very sweet.
The next day, Nat is able to walk on it. It's all good. Except for the guilt.
...and PS, yes I did try to take her to the immediate care clinic, but it was closed. Go figure, that's our small town for ya.
We were leaving the church 4th of July party and I thought Natalie was already in the car. I was distracted and tired and in the habit of starting the car as the girls are shutting their doors. Dumb.
I hear her scream and I think that she and Shelby are fighting. Again. But then she yells, "You're on my foot!" And it takes me a minute (not literally) to think that I need to back up the car and get off of her foot. Holy Crap.
I immediately scoop her up into the back seat and look at her foot, it's torn up a bit on one side and bruising on the other. Shelby is freaking out. Panicking. She runs up to get her church-uncle to help us.
I am not panicking, although I feel like crap about the whole thing. I take off her sandal thinking that if her foot starts swelling it will have to be cut off. I hold her foot in a towel. There's not much blood and I give it the once-over and it doesn't look broken.
Dan comes and carries her to his truck and shuttles her back to his house, then carries her to a chair in the backyard and begins icing her foot. He is wonderful, calm, reassuring. He has her push with her toes against his hand and says that he thinks she'll be fine. That if it were broken she couldn't do that. We give her Tylenol and I have to deal with the fact that the rest of the party goers know that I'm a horrible mom. Who drives over their own child's foot? Seriously?
I take her home and we continue to ice it. I'm surprised by how good it looks, considering. We got really lucky. The blessing is that Shelby is falling all over herself to take care of her sister. She's bringing her stuff, helping her walk and get dressed, wrapping her foot in an Ace bandage. It's very sweet.
The next day, Nat is able to walk on it. It's all good. Except for the guilt.
...and PS, yes I did try to take her to the immediate care clinic, but it was closed. Go figure, that's our small town for ya.
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