Thursday, 14 March 2013

Thoughts From Venice


Today we have the second guest blogger to grace One Man and a Wee Bairn. Writing all way from Venice my Artistic Cousin gives her perspectives on children and language. Enjoy. 

I am in Italy, sitting with a young Italian girl called Liza. Liza is four years old. Her mother is Russian, so Liza speaks an odd mix of Italian and Russian. She doesn’t seem to realise the difference as she skips easily between the two, expecting her listener to skip with her. Nor does she realise how lucky she is- to sit between two languages, cultures and histories as most of us struggle with one.
It is as easy for a child to learn Japanese or Chinese, as French or German. Whatever place a child is born into, and whatever language is spoken at home, the child will learn that language, whether it has complicated tenses, sounds, cases or letters. And as my experience of teaching six-year-old Russian children shows, they are much better at picking up a foreign language than adults. They lack the self-awareness and embarrassment of adults; they don’t question linguistic oddities; their mouths are more fluid, and they don’t care about mistakes.
One day soon, the Wee Bairn will open his mouth and quote Shakespeare at his parents. This may well be a shock. However, all this time, his brain has been assimilating, coding, remembering, storing language. And language- whichever language- is almost inexpressibly complicated. Even the simple distinctions between “here” and “there” or “I” and “you” demand an implicit understanding of space and self.
This is not to mention the waterfall of tenses that place us in time- “I had walked”, “I walked”, “I was walking” “I will have walked”. Only when you try to explain them to a non-English speaker, do you realise how difficult they are (I was ready to strangle someone after the sixteenth attempt at explaining “I have watched…”). Russians get by with three tenses- past, present, future.
How do children learn to speak with so few mistakes?
But what fascinates me the most is the link between language and culture. The Wee Bairn was born in England to English parents so will speak English. And his understanding of English will shape- and be shaped by- the way he views the world, just as Liza’s is shaped by the fact she happened to be born to Russians in Italy. Even the Wee Bairn’s sense of humour will be influenced by his language (e.g. English puns are far easier and more common because of the large number of words in the language). He’ll even hear animal sounds differently- Russian dogs definitely do not go “woof” (neither, to be fair, do the English ones I’ve heard…). 

In the end, Liza is lucky. She has been given keys to two different worlds. For this reason, I always wince when English people say that they don’t have to learn another language because everyone speaks English, or that their children can get by with just English. This may be true, but how much richer everyone else’s world for knowing two languages; and how much poorer ours for only knowing one. The science of learning a language is as yet not fully unexplained. Learning another language is like jumping on a boat, exploring unchartered territories, and using those territories to see your homeland clearer.


Wednesday, 13 March 2013

Jamie Loves Kids (Apparently)


If you are to believe the graffiti in my local park, I love kids. This funny bit vandalism was spotted by the Chancellor while I was away and yesterday I thought I would check it out for myself. I would assume that it was meant to be a negative slur from one friend to another. It's a bit on the nose though just so happening to be found in the playground I visit regularly. Could it be one of my more ardent fans spreading the love of One Man and a Wee Bairn? If it is then next time can you at least put the web link to the blog please.

If you look close enough to the top right of the orange board you can see the offending words. I would like to point out that I'm not in love with kids nor do I love kids in general. I love my son but find most other children hard to deal with. These kind of slurs can get around and either of those two interpretations could have a negative affect on my celebrity status. Why don't you pop down to your local park and see what the graffiti says about you.

In other news away from my alleged love for children  I have a Baby Centre blog out today, for more information go to, http://www.baby.co.uk/mum_stories/the-joys-of-childrens-books-3/. Right I'm off down to the park with some paint.


jpr

Tuesday, 12 March 2013

Ahoy Shipmates

Ahoy shipmates. I have returned, you can all now breath a collective sigh of relief. For I have returned and have immediately been thrust back onto the plank of parenting, staring down at the sharks circling below. My crimes of desertion and mutiny by going to Manchester are punishable only by expulsion to a deserted island in the Pacific. But seeing as it's still snowing in Newcastle this sounds brilliant.

My first mate, The Chancellor, did a quite excellent job with the wee man and I think I owe her a day or two of peace and quiet. The Chancellor will probably expect that she is our ship's captain but I'm the man of the house so I'll wear the hat and have the parrot on the shoulder and say ARRRRRRRrrrr.

Away from pirates a big thank you to Ericka Waller for being the first guest blogger on One Man. If you want to read what I wrote for her blog then you can find it at http://muminthesouth.co.uk/2013/03/how-a-man-deals-with-toddler-tantrums. While you're there check out her writing because it's very good but read mine first.

To get home from Manchester yesterday it took 2 trams, 1 train, 1 taxi and a 2 hour drive. All of which I had to negotiate after a night of excesses. I won't go into detail but by the time I got home to an over excited toddler I was ready for the glue factory. It would have been though a bit unfair if I had returned home and instantly asked The Chancellor for more time to recover and feel sorry for myself. I knew what her reaction would have been so I didn't even bother.

After a good sleep last night my body has recovered not fully but enough to deal with the wee man. But since I've been away he seems to have gotten bigger and more vocal and I didn't think that was possible. Either I wasn't paying him enough attention before or my new glasses have let me see him properly. Maybe a mixture of both. But I am back on it (as they say) and already today I've had a tantrum from him but I also managed to have a coffee with a friend while he slept. This kind gesture from him keeps him from Davy Jones' Locker for one more day.

jpr


Monday, 11 March 2013

Are Dads Who Go to Playgroups Losers?

Today we have something a little different. One Man and a Wee Bairn welcomes the very excellent Ericka Waller to share her opinions of stay-at-home-dads. Ericka's blog, which I will be writing for, can be found at http://muminthesouth.co.uk/. Over to you Ericka...




So I go to this playgroup on a Thursday that is frequented by a few “Jamies” (stay-at-home-dads). If I’m honest, when I first started going, I thought they were a load of losers.

So stuck was I in my ‘men do work, get pennies while woman make house and babies lovely-nice’ as I was, I could not bend my head around the idea of a man being able to do the HARDEST JOB IN THE WORLD EVER.

(Definition of HARDEST JOB IN WHOLE WORLD EVER = Staying home with the children full time, sacrificing all career, time-to-self, social-life and ‘nipping anywhere quickly’ opportunities forever more).

I searched for things that backed up my view of these men. Ha! Look how mismatched their children’s clothes are. Why his daughter's (inside-out) skirt is not even ironed! And see how they tidy up so badly. The wooden bananas have been put in with shape sorters. The playdough lids are not correspondent to the playdoh within.
When one of them put a plastic hammer in with the dolls, I began to seriously worry about the mental-health of the women who left these goons in charge of their kids.

But then I started noticing little things.  The way they wiped their children’s snot off so gently with their sleeves.  The way they waited until they were sure their kids had finished their snack before they ate all the remnants (in one large gulp YUMP!) Their eagerness to help fold tables and put trikes back in the shed. (I am STILL man, hear me roar.) The depth their baritones added to 'I am the music man' in singing.

And I also noticed the way they engaged with their kids. Not huddled together in groups either side of the room, talking about one another or their child’s dull achievements - but sat beside their kids, faithfully making towers, or drawing cards for mummies who were busy ‘at work’.

I realised what a fool I had been.

Now, like a rebel at school, I hang out with the boys. We talk about whoever it was that badly glued the train set to a lump of hardboard, and their lack of civil engineering skills. We race one another to see who can stack the most chairs the fastest and put them away (without knocking over any children) or who can swing their child the highest in the hockey-kokey.

We don’t talk about reading books or speech development or potty training. We don’t moan about our weight. We don’t talk about the housework waiting, with its jaws open, for us at home.

Of course there are moments when having men there is annoying. Like when I’ve been for a coil check-up and want to discuss the length of my cervix (what is normal?), or when someone asks me how my piles are.

But mostly, I welcome the invasion into a mostly female dominated space. I wish they would take the tidying up more seriously, but they can only do one thing at once. Poor simple fools.

Sunday, 10 March 2013

Grim Up North

The previous two times I've been able to sleep, without the worry of listening out for a child, I wasted them. On both occasions I ate and drank far too much leading to bloatedness and a drunken sleep that in no way made me feel rested. The Chancellor was smarter on the other hand drinking less and enjoying a more rested sleep. So last night I made a point of eating less and saying no to wine with dinner. Naturally I slept like a baby, unless it was the wee man as a baby of course who never slept.

During the day yesterday, as I lay on my parent's sofa feeling like one of those people who bum around their parents house but are in their thirties, I looked around expecting to see a little face by my side or a hand smacking my face. It was almost disconcerting that he wasn't there. I didn't however loose much sleep over this, as you can imagine.

So as I sit on the train crossing the Pennines with only a small bag and this tablet to keep me company I am almost relaxed. Not as relaxed as I would be if I was sitting on a beach in the Maldives with as cocktail. I will have to make do with Lancashire as a poor runner-up.

In a side note away from industrial cities in the north of England, remember that there will be some blog swapping this week. I will be appearing on Ericka Waller's blog on Monday and she will be entertaining you when I get back from my mini holiday.

"We are now approaching Manchester Piccadilly" That's me told.

Jpr








Saturday, 9 March 2013

Prozac And Cheap Booze

To start this cold, dank, miserable day some good news. On Monday there will be a guest blog written by myself appearing on the very excellent website http://muminthesouth.co.uk/. It is a site written by my fellow Baby Centre blogger Ericka Waller. Ericka was one of the other bloggers I was up against when I made it into the last five for the Baby Centre competition. She won the popular vote (by some way) and this made me disgruntled and I cursed her name for having more friends and followers than I did. But then I won too (editor's choice) and I liked her again. Fickle. But seriously she is an excellent writer and has happily agreed to write for One Man so expect her blog soon. I will post a link on Monday to my blog on her site and I expect would like you all to read it.

Onto today. My bag is packed, the car is ready and The Chancellor is stocked up on Prozac and cheep booze. For when she returns from the shops I will be dashing away quicker than a cheetah. But I wonder if I will spend all my time away wondering if the wee man has had a nap at the appropriate time or what he's had to eat or if he's slept through. This last one generally happens but knowing The Chancellor's luck he will be up all night for two nights.

I am on best orders to enjoy myself and relax. But I'm not sure if I know what relaxing is anymore. It has been so long since I sat back and didn't have something child related on my mind.When The Chancellor has given me an afternoon to relax I end up either doing some housework or sitting around waiting for them to come back. My mind has irreparably been altered to to care for a child that there is little sight of it being changed back to get me to a place where I can relax and let my shoulders drop.

As I write The Chancellor has returned with money for me to enjoy myself. A proud moment indeed. So off I go and I may have time to squeeze in a post while I'm on the train tomorrow.


jpr  

Friday, 8 March 2013

Jamie's Magical Mystery Tour

I am aware this morning that I forgot to inform you of my latest Baby Centre blogs for this week. I have become something of a melting pot of creativity and ideas, it's amazing what adding an extra cup of coffee into your day will do for you. But two blogs of mine have appeared on Baby Centre this week. First off a tale of a woman who took laziness and shamelessness to a new level, http://www.baby.co.uk/mum_stories/is-that-a-real-pregnancy-bump-madam-3/. The second is me getting serious and judgmental. http://www.baby.co.uk/mum_stories/is-smoking-around-children-child-abuse/.

So if you are not completely bored of me and what I have to say I will continue. Hopefully in the next week or so you will have someone else talking to you about children and parenting or about whatever they want to write about. This is because I will be having some guest bloggers writing for me. Also I will be appearing on another blogger's site but more about that later on. So look out on here for someone who can actually write and who has something interesting to say. I'm also trying to get The Chancellor on here but some coercion maybe required for that.

Now if you thought those bits of new were exciting then hold onto your hats because this weekend One Man will be blogging from two different cities. Tomorrow I am going away for two and a half days...by myself. No child, no wife, no change bag, no half eaten pots of food, nothing child related will be going with me. Apart from this blog. This kind of excursion is totally unprecedented and I'm sure it's going to be a little weird but I intend to bask in the quiet of childless surroundings. Though I'm swapping it to go see a band in Manchester who can be described as noise pop or pioneers of shoe-gazing. Don't ask me to explain, safe to say though it will be loud but enjoyable. The Chancellor will experience the full force of long periods alone with the wee man who is turning more and more each day into the Tasmanian Devil.

*I must say as a disclaimer that it's very nice of her to take a day off work and look after him for so long. Thank you.

So the roadshow pit stops in Leeds tomorrow for a night then onto Manchester. Will I miss home life? I'll let you know.

jpr