Lost in Translation

I took several classes in college from a professor who challenged my thinking and instigated a paradigm shift withing my conscious being that I still feel and see the ramifications of currently. There was a particular class, a human development/psych., upper division class, that planted this seed of common translation that I write about now. We were instructed in our papers to first read, digest and synthesize for ourselves the concepts to go into our papers. Then we had to translate the concepts, vocabulary, ideas and complete philosophical argument of our paper onto a level any lay person could read, comprehend, and apply. The first portion of this academic task was difficult enough, but trying to 'translate' academic concepts into easily digestible concepts was even more so. I remember bemoaning my fate to a friend, "How the hell am I supposed to do this, I'm not mature enough, smart enough, ____enough!?!"
I think I did alright, for a slacker junior procrastinator. Red writing all over my paper but I scraped by with mostly A's and B's.
Now I have two children, one who talks incessantly and one who is just learning how to verbalize beyond "dada" and "duckaduckaducka". I find myself becoming impatient, tone getting dangerously annoyed, with my 3 year old, quite often. She has such definite ideas, is stubborn as hell, but has an amazing brain that is constantly planning, plotting, crafting, synthesizing and imitating. We clash, I think, not because we are so different in what we want, but how we go about what we want. It's becoming increasingly, painfully clear that some translation is in order. She needs to understand, on her level, what I want, and I need to understand things from her perspective. Obviously some things will fall between the cracks, some things we will just need time and maturity to flavor in order for their to be understanding. But until then, I will do my best to translate my thoughts for her and to extrapolate meaning from her communications, verbal and otherwise.

Learning to try new things

So, I never intended this to be a blog with 90% of the content devoted to my children, but somehow fate has it out for me. I keep remembering little stories, quips and instances that I want to share with the world and write down for memories' sake. One such story is about my oldest daughter, Abigail's taste in music. She loves rocking out to Peter Bjorn and John in the car, listening patiently to her mother chant along with Bob Dylan tunes, and asks if Beethoven is available to listen to in the house.

She's interested in everything from Stockhausen to the Smiths. She also happens to have developed a love and deep appreciation for music from the Lawrence Welk Show and from Andre Rieu's concerts.(both of which I take full responsibility for considering my husband and I have corrupted her with public broadcasting from a very early age.)

Ever heard either of these two music forums before? Ever patiently sat through the Lawrence Welk show on a Sunday night, in rapture by Myron Florin the magnificent accordion player? Or Andre Rieu, the Dutch violinist who frequently uses smoke machines and women in garish, sparkly, somewhat Venetian dresses, accompanying him while he dances and prances on stage, dark brown hair flying in ringlets about his face? Didn't think you would answer yes to most of those questions. My daughter, however, seems to think both these guys are the cat's meow and doesn't understand why I don't want to stay in the family room and watch, eyes glued to the screen whenever they happen to come on. I have to hand it to her, though, she finds the most amazing things to point out like, look mommy, that man is dancing while playing the violin, or look mommy, that man smiles a lot and lets lots of people sing on his show! Her innocence and sensitivity create in me a genuine wonder at what she sees and interprets in that gorgeous little head. Can't think of much more to say about the subject. Just that my daughters are lovely, even if they think watching the accordian being played is on par with getting a sack full of money.