Sunday, 4 October 2009

Goodbye "Gaga Googoo" - Hello 'Real' Baby Talk

I love to talk and always have.  I'll never forget one of my old school friends explaining to me that "when you ask Tanya how her day is, you don't get a simple good or bad but instead a blow by blow account of her recent activity/feelings in response to it/etc."  Yes, I can be long winded and sometimes dish out TMI (too much information) - many of you no doubt have first hand experience with that. Overall though, I'm happy I have the gift of the gab.  I'm comfortable expressing myself, I'm interested in language and its infinite possibilities and I love interesting conversation (yes, the listening bit too).

Talking was a defining characteristic of mine from an early age - thanks mom and dad.  As an infant they used to talk to me - not just in the "nanny poo poo baby bubba boo" way but in the "look at that red bird in tall tree" kind of way - and I listened.  I listened so well, that I started talking early and used to repeat everything my mom said.  I think it drove her a little crazy.  Then one day when I was two or three we were conversing in the changing room of a department store when a fellow shopper stopped my mom and asked her my age.  She then said she was a teacher and had never heard a child of my age with such an extensive vocabulary.

I'm not sharing this to blow smoke up my ass but to paint a picture - my parents communicated with me about the world around me and it rubbed off to good effect.  As this New York Times article, shared by new mama E, points out, this is engaging, constructive communication between mothers and baby is becoming too rare an occurrence in our 'rush rush' society of digital distraction.

I plan on talking to my baby, surprise surprise; I already do.  I want her to get used to the sound of my voice and once she's out of my belly, I want to teach her in the same way my parents taught me.  Sometimes I feel silly talking to "myself," particularly with baby in utero, but this article reminds me that I'm doing more good than the harm I get from any skeptical looks thrown my way.

Yes, I'm the 26 week pregnant lady talking to my baby in the 6th floor bathroom stall and I'm proud as punch!
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