Hi. I've been a little absentee because I'm working on other things. Remember the elation mentioned 3 posts back? So now I am working on my vocabulary etc. in an attempt to keep ahead of speed-learning children. I'm absolutely amazed at the things coming out of her mouth on a daily basis... some new words, sentence structures, etc. So exciting!
I might have before mentioned Anna's infatuaion with Shrek. Well, she pretends to be Fiona, and usually she says Niamh is donkey. Poor Niamh. Someday she will have a say in these these things. Well, Niamh must have been napping one day, and I became Donkey. Remember, that I endeavor to use Irish exclusively with her. I've also learned that one of the reasons she wasn't liking when I was using Irish was that I would do more funny voices and be sillier when I was using English. So shoot... stretch, Jennifer! I took a deep breath and did the best Irish-speaking Eddie Murphy I could muster. I was surprised, actually, it wasn't bad. I was pretty impressed with myself. Although it turned into more of a Fred Sanford from Sanford and Son after a while, the idea was still there, and it was hilarious if you are me.
But the excitement does not even end there. Who out there has seen Jonah, the Veggie Tales movie? Remember Chalil (however you spell it.)? mmmm... do you see where this is going? Yes. There is now frequently heard in this house, Irish Gaelic with a ghetto and/or Pakistani accent.
Classic.
I hope my children don't grow up too confused.
Wednesday, January 30, 2008
Friday, January 18, 2008
Monday, January 07, 2008
Anna's world
Anna got a little tikes camera for Christmas and she had taken over 100 pictures within the week. This is one of my favourites. It is actually pretty! I had been journalling at the kitchen table, and that is the book and centerpiece. What lovely composition! Mind you, most of the others are unintelligible, but I had to show this one off :). Most of them are more like this:
Also, recently heard:
"I'll be there in a gypsy!"
"JOY to the world, the Lord is fun!"
One more for the road:
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
My own little Everest
This cannot possibly be as cool to anybody else as it is to me.
I have been reeeally discouraged for the last, oh, year, about the progress, or lack thereof, of Anna's Irish. Mind you, I believe she understands everything I say, but she wouldn't ever use it with me. We have always had bilingual conversations in which I speak Irish to her and she replies in English, minus the odd Irish noun tossed into an otherwise English sentence.
"Mommy, can I have some bainne?" (milk)
"I'm not tuirseach." (tired-adjective, I know)
"Look at that puiscin!" (kitten)
I was just about to get downright depressed about it. I knew many people at the University of Toronto who had been raised with their parents speaking something else to them (Mandarin, Arabic, Bengali, you name it), but they always answered in English. They all reported understanding the parent language but being unable to use it themselves. I did not want this for my girls! I wanted them to SPEAK it.
Not wanting to give up, I tried to find ways to be more proactive. I joined an online group for parents raising their children with Irish (to which my brother-in-law said, "Wow, there really is an online group for EVERYthing."). I've gotten some great ideas and most importantly, encouragement, from other parents in there. I sought out Irish blogs to read, worked on my own Irish blog more which was surprisingly helpful, and made the general daily effort to be as exclusively Irish speaking to them as possible. In some literature I got from another parenting resource in Ireland, when it is only one parent seeking to pass on the language, it is recommended that that parent uses the language exclusively with the children. Ouch, I said to myself. Not possible, but I'm trying!
WELL! It has happened! Finally! Anna started using it with me all the time and I am simply ecstatic! That is part of her motivation I'm sure, that she has seen it gets her approval and some big mommy smiles, even when she might have been about to get in trouble. (no, it doesn't get her out of trouble, try as she might).
I don't think I can communicate why or how thrilled I am at this, but it feels so huge to me. Growing up in purebred mono-lingual anglophone Midwestern USA, bilingualism seemed so exotic, foreign and untouchably elite to me. I never imagined it for myself (even though I am not calling myself fully bilingual yet, since I'm not fluent at all in Irish) and to be passing it onto my kids is just thrilling. It feels like I have conquered a huge personal mountain.
Cool. :)
I have been reeeally discouraged for the last, oh, year, about the progress, or lack thereof, of Anna's Irish. Mind you, I believe she understands everything I say, but she wouldn't ever use it with me. We have always had bilingual conversations in which I speak Irish to her and she replies in English, minus the odd Irish noun tossed into an otherwise English sentence.
"Mommy, can I have some bainne?" (milk)
"I'm not tuirseach." (tired-adjective, I know)
"Look at that puiscin!" (kitten)
I was just about to get downright depressed about it. I knew many people at the University of Toronto who had been raised with their parents speaking something else to them (Mandarin, Arabic, Bengali, you name it), but they always answered in English. They all reported understanding the parent language but being unable to use it themselves. I did not want this for my girls! I wanted them to SPEAK it.
Not wanting to give up, I tried to find ways to be more proactive. I joined an online group for parents raising their children with Irish (to which my brother-in-law said, "Wow, there really is an online group for EVERYthing."). I've gotten some great ideas and most importantly, encouragement, from other parents in there. I sought out Irish blogs to read, worked on my own Irish blog more which was surprisingly helpful, and made the general daily effort to be as exclusively Irish speaking to them as possible. In some literature I got from another parenting resource in Ireland, when it is only one parent seeking to pass on the language, it is recommended that that parent uses the language exclusively with the children. Ouch, I said to myself. Not possible, but I'm trying!
WELL! It has happened! Finally! Anna started using it with me all the time and I am simply ecstatic! That is part of her motivation I'm sure, that she has seen it gets her approval and some big mommy smiles, even when she might have been about to get in trouble. (no, it doesn't get her out of trouble, try as she might).
I don't think I can communicate why or how thrilled I am at this, but it feels so huge to me. Growing up in purebred mono-lingual anglophone Midwestern USA, bilingualism seemed so exotic, foreign and untouchably elite to me. I never imagined it for myself (even though I am not calling myself fully bilingual yet, since I'm not fluent at all in Irish) and to be passing it onto my kids is just thrilling. It feels like I have conquered a huge personal mountain.
Cool. :)
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
Memory Lane #1
For Auld Lang Syne, or old time's sake, as the song recommends, I'm making a new recurring segment, which may or may not recur more frequently than the other recurring segment which is yet to recur.
This segment is A Walk Down Memory Lane, in which I tell some old story from my life that you may or may not know or be bored with hearing, and you can chalk it up to either having nothing of interest to report in my current life, or having genuinely exciting stories from earlier in my life than bear repeating, y'know, just like old people. Which is, by the way, a category I now fit into, depending on whom you ask. High school and uni kids now think I'm old cause, I mean really, I have kids and EVERYthing... I must be at least thirty, right?
Anyway, we won't go there.
Today's story is from my summer in Ireland. I spent a couple months there, lived with an Irish speaking family for a month doing Irish immersion. This host family put up students wanting to immerse from all over the world. In the house while I was there were also 2 Polish girls, a German lady, a Dubliner and an old guy (no really, he had turned 30 more than once... working on his 3rd round) from Texas. It was interesting, to say the least.
I had been looking for a copy of the Bible in Irish to no avail. Finally after one mass I approached the parish priest to ask him if he had any idea where one could be obtained. I thought it would be great for me to be able to combine my Bible study with my language study. He seemed quite surprised to meet a young lady who actually read the Bible, and who was so interested in both God and Irish. He had no information on how to locate an Irish Bible, because, as he said, it has been out of print for some time. He saw my disappointment, but we agreed that I could keep trying the used bookstores.
A few days later, our transcontinental crew was all sitting around in lazy recovery mode after the satiating supper, and there was a knock at the door. The woman of the house answered the door and after talking a moment came in and quietly called for me to come to the door.
"Jennifer, the priest is here to see you."
However, between her soft tone and the blaring Gaelic football game on the television, she was misheard by us all, and with huge eyes and gaping gobs all the girls were looking at me, "the POLICE??!?!" What did you DO?!?!?"
What?? I didn't do anything!!! I swear! I can't think of anything anyway!
Of course my fear was alleviated when I saw the priest at the door and understood the misunderstanding.
The others, however, continued to whisper furiously back in the living room theorizing about what trouble I might be in.
The priest had come, believe it or not, to give me his own personal copy of the Biobla Naofa . (I didn't know about this site at the time) I could not believe it. I argued with him about it, but he had made up his mind.
To this day, it is one of my most prized possessions. I still want to track him down and tell him that it is actually in use, it isn't just some expensive souvenir, or token that has gone to dusty waste on a shelf somewhere. That little girl still is pursuing both God and Irish.
This segment is A Walk Down Memory Lane, in which I tell some old story from my life that you may or may not know or be bored with hearing, and you can chalk it up to either having nothing of interest to report in my current life, or having genuinely exciting stories from earlier in my life than bear repeating, y'know, just like old people. Which is, by the way, a category I now fit into, depending on whom you ask. High school and uni kids now think I'm old cause, I mean really, I have kids and EVERYthing... I must be at least thirty, right?
Anyway, we won't go there.
Today's story is from my summer in Ireland. I spent a couple months there, lived with an Irish speaking family for a month doing Irish immersion. This host family put up students wanting to immerse from all over the world. In the house while I was there were also 2 Polish girls, a German lady, a Dubliner and an old guy (no really, he had turned 30 more than once... working on his 3rd round) from Texas. It was interesting, to say the least.
I had been looking for a copy of the Bible in Irish to no avail. Finally after one mass I approached the parish priest to ask him if he had any idea where one could be obtained. I thought it would be great for me to be able to combine my Bible study with my language study. He seemed quite surprised to meet a young lady who actually read the Bible, and who was so interested in both God and Irish. He had no information on how to locate an Irish Bible, because, as he said, it has been out of print for some time. He saw my disappointment, but we agreed that I could keep trying the used bookstores.
A few days later, our transcontinental crew was all sitting around in lazy recovery mode after the satiating supper, and there was a knock at the door. The woman of the house answered the door and after talking a moment came in and quietly called for me to come to the door.
"Jennifer, the priest is here to see you."
However, between her soft tone and the blaring Gaelic football game on the television, she was misheard by us all, and with huge eyes and gaping gobs all the girls were looking at me, "the POLICE??!?!" What did you DO?!?!?"
What?? I didn't do anything!!! I swear! I can't think of anything anyway!
Of course my fear was alleviated when I saw the priest at the door and understood the misunderstanding.
The others, however, continued to whisper furiously back in the living room theorizing about what trouble I might be in.
The priest had come, believe it or not, to give me his own personal copy of the Biobla Naofa . (I didn't know about this site at the time) I could not believe it. I argued with him about it, but he had made up his mind.
To this day, it is one of my most prized possessions. I still want to track him down and tell him that it is actually in use, it isn't just some expensive souvenir, or token that has gone to dusty waste on a shelf somewhere. That little girl still is pursuing both God and Irish.
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