Pooh Story?

As a sidebar:



When I got my MA in Linguistics, my intention was to teach English as a Second Language, and I have done this. However, I had a secret passion for the field of Sociolinguistics: regional variety; discourse analysis; language and gender; language change; all that stuff. The research shows that language change tends to originate in young girls, and after hearing some of the stuff my daughter and her friends say, I'm now convinced. From time to time, I'm going to post things I hear Sara and her BFFs say; then, I'd love to hear from anyone out there as to whether you hear girls in your area say the same things. Could be fun.



So, to start, my two for today are:



1. "Whatev's", which is a shortened version of "Whatever."



2. Many times, when Sara or her friends say something, especially, if (they think) it's funny or smart, they will repeat it, like this: "I cleaned my room! Yay me! I'm, like, 'I cleaned my room! Yay me!'" As a mother, I find this one a little annoying. I'm, like, "A little annoying."



*****

I spent today near the phone, hoping to hear good news about my dad. After his initial recovery from his first stroke, he has had a couple of other "stroke-like episodes" that now have him paralyzed on the right side. He still has language, but is having trouble speaking because of the facial paralysis. He has been at the University Hospital in Madison for a a few days, now. The plan after that is to move him into residential treatment: a sort of stroke therapy boot-camp. Mom is under some stress, as they were packing up to move when Dad had the stroke. They need to be out of the house where I grew up by March 1, so she's also taking care of final arrangements for their condo in Oshkosh. My sister is getting there tomorrow; then Mom will call me and let me know when she wants me to come. February, she says. She doesn't think I should travel yet, because of my recent surgery. She's probably onto something there. There are still some things I can't do, but will be able to do in a few weeks.



Friday was a good day. He talked a lot and was in a good mood. Yesterday, he slept a lot. Mom said he was discouraged at not being able to read easily. His Louis L'Amour novel was in his lap, but he is too weak to hold it up (I'm thinkin' "book stand"...).



Mom says, "Do you want me to read to you?"

"I can read."

"Yes, but you can't hold the book, so I could read to you if you like."

"Read me a Pooh story."



Mom was at a loss, not having an A. A. Milne collection to hand, or even remembering the stories very well.



I laughed when she told me this. A couple of visits ago, Dad and I sat on the stairs in their house and took turns reading A. A. Milne poems out loud to each other. They are pretty fun, and I read them to the kids all the time. One of our favorite things to do on a "sleep late" day is to pile into my bed and read "The Knight Whose Armor Didn't Squeak" or "King John's Christmas". My Pooh collection gathers no dust, that's for sure.


Mom and I decided it would be fun for me to get on the phone with Dad today and read him a Pooh story or poems or whatever he likes. The plan was that I would call his room at noon and she would put the phone to his ear.

She called me at 11:30, though, and told me that we should wait until another day. He was barely conscious. He looked terrible, she told me. She was afraid he was dying. She promised to call me if he got any clearer-headed, and that we would carry out our plan; but he did not improve. When she called me tonight, she seemed a little bit encouraged, having talked to his neurologist. I guess the sort of brain damage he has can affect his circadian rhythms, meaning that, as part of therapy, he'll need to be retaught his sleep patterns. I suggested to Mom the possibility that he may be depressed as well. She says that Dad doesn't tend to get depressed, but that he may find sleep to be a pretty good way to avoid the constant harassment of the nursing staff, etc...

I promised her that I would carry my Pooh books around in my briefcase for a few days. If he wanted a Pooh story, she could just call me up, even at school, and I could take a break to be his A. A. Milne request line. Luckily, the entire set is no bigger than a lunch box. Thank goodness he didn't request Winston Churchill or J. K. Rowling.