How to teach baby two languages at the same time

As a new parent one thought that made us quite nervous and eager was to imagine how our child would sound when they speak those first words. What would those words be and in which language. I remember a lot of our friends saying how in their experience they have tried teaching their child more than one language but ended up having to satisfy themselves with only English. No matter what they would do, the child just would not respond in any language other than English. I also heard theories of how it can get confusing for kids to pick up multiple languages at the same time. But really is there a bar on the number of languages a child can pick up? I doubt it.

I have myself grown up learning four different languages spoken in India! Hindi and English are languages spoken or understood in most parts of India, Bengali because I was born and brought up in Bengal (so the interactions with a taxi or a shopkeeper would have to be in Bengali) and finally Marwadi which is my mother tongue – we originally hail from a western Indian state called Rajasthan which has Marwadi as its language. Each of these languages I could read, write and speak very fluently. So did I get confused as I was growing up? Was I able to do it because I was an extra-ordinary child? Did my parents do anything so differently that it cannot be copied again? The answer to all these questions is No. However I wanted to make sure I can try it out on our toddler before concluding that the process works. So what is the mantra that can solve this puzzle?

It’s simple – provide the child the right amount of exposure to the languages you want them to pick up. In my case I had exposure to English at school (I educated from a school with English as the first language), my mother used to speak in Marwadi with me and she made my father speak in Hindi with me (in fact it has remained the case till date). I learnt Bengali from speaking to friends in the locality or playing with them. Therefore the guidance is simple. However the implementation is more difficult – especially when you live in western countries where the families are small and there is not much interaction with neighbours.

So the first aspect was for us to pick up the languages that we wanted our toddle to pick up. We chose Hindi and English only. The main reason is because these are the only two languages my husband knows out of the four I knew, so the most common ones we were going to use in our household. Our toddler started going to a day care when she turned one as joined back work after maternity leave. The day care was using English to communicate with her. So all we had to do was to ensure that we always, and I really mean always, speak in Hindi with her. Once she joined the day care and started speaking words, I remember days when she would be tempted to respond in English – as she was hearing that throughout the day and it was easier for her to explain in the same language as she has experienced it during the day. However I would not react to what she would tell me. I would instead add the following in Hindi – “Sorry I can’t understand what you are saying as I only understand Hindi”. She would realise what I said (although sometimes she would try again in English but without luck) and translate it in Hindi for me. There were few such instances before she realised that inside the house it is Hindi and outside the house it is English.

Now I have a toddler who can communicate in both the languages and I don’t see her confused at all. In fact she surprises us with the amount of words she knows in each language and translating it for us when she is looking through flash cards for animals, fruits and vegetables.

All in all, I believe that the fact that more languages can confuse children is a myth. In fact it is the exact opposite – it would actually make them more confident knowing that they can communicate to a wider audience!

A stranger to my toddler

This post is dedicated to a friend of mine who inspired me to write again, to write a lot, to write to express myself, to write because at least he cares to read!

It has been a while (two years he reminds me) that we had not met. However even though we were meeting after such a long time, it did not feel even a bit formal. With a cranky 18 month old (who did not have her afternoon nap), I was all preoccupied trying to satisfy her high demands for attention. To make matters worse, she did not look immediately comfortable with him being around – stranger anxiety. She was seeing him for the first time, occupying her personal space – her home. He figured out the trick to make her comfortable around him is to ignore her, not give her the attention which upon getting she reacts with a bad “dry cry” as his girlfriend remarked! He instead played beautiful synthesiser for her without looking directly into her eyes. She would stare at him from the corner of her eyes admiring him for the beautiful music, but then he had not done enough yet for her to openly give a nod of acceptance.

We spoke about a gamut of things. It is so amazing to see that even after such a long time we could just talk about a wide range of things with great élan – be it the IS, the somehow-managing-to-come-together Greek economy, of course my writing which he has become a fan of, babies and work-life balance, their career and plans ahead, dreams and aspirations and the upcoming holiday plans. Really so much packed into the less than a couple of hours they stayed at our place along with a not-so-happy toddler around. Just shows how much we are in sync with each other to be able to fit in that much content.

People often say that birds of the same feather flock together. However, here is an example where we belong to completely different cultures arising out of completely different geographies – in every sense – appearance, food, language, faith. What binds us is the fact that we are just human beings who are good natured with strong values. We are mentally on the same platform which means that we could be done with talking about topics within minutes. I don’t get this level of comfort even when talking to many people of my own herd. There is so much of talk about radicalism in this world where we are reaching out to kill others because they don't belong to our herd, but then the question is how far does it have to go before it ends. For now the criteria is religion, tomorrow the criteria will be attire, language, food, dreams, everything. Are we only going to stop when we all become robots - exact replicas of each other with no brains to have any divergence of thoughts. At that stage the only way to end ourselves will be to press the self-destruct button on our robotic motherboards. 

I don't want to live behind such a world for my daughter to grow up into. I want her to feel even more comfortable than me mixing with people from different backgrounds, different lineages. The only way to a successful livelihood is by having the openness in your heart and mind and appreciation for everybody. We may have our favourites, but that should purely be based on compatibility of thoughts - not on the basis of parameters that humans have created, including religion. 

By the end of the almost two hours, the friend was no more a strange to my daughter - but somebody she was comfortable to share her toys with. I am sure she would love to meet him the next time he shows up, including being keen to show him her keyboard skills!

Journey of being a working mother

We recently went on a trip to Blackpool. This has to be one of the most memorable trips I have had so far. The first proper trip on our own with our new born who is soon going to be all of 15 months. Really time has flown so quickly that I have lost track of what all it entailed. The last clear memories are of the last day at work with the cake, the speeches and the card with lots of scribbles wishing good luck. And the uneasy feeling of what is there to come. After I said good bye to work to embark on a new journey of motherhood - life has been on a roller coaster ride, memories of which are now gradually fading already. Just within a week of bidding adieu to work, I delivered a little princess.

As seamless and joyful were the 9 months of pregnancy, my delivery was equally straightforward. Obviously at that time it did feel like the most arduous experience, one I vouched I will never tread on again. But with the passage of time and having heard of other more painful stories, my discomfort seemed minimalistic. My life was getting filled up with the joyous feeling of being a mother. The first three months are the toughest in terms of raising a child. From being someone who learnt everything from how to hold a baby to changing nappies in an antenatal class, I was gradually becoming a mother - one who knows how to breast feed, is able to understand and differentiate between the various baby cries, make baby burp and wee and poo, sooth her to sleep etc. It is hard work, but unlike corporate hard work where rewards are quantified at the end of the year, nature of reward here is quite different - instantaneous gratification felt at an emotional level.

The 6 months following the most difficult first 3 months were very easy - I went back to India to my parents with my new born and had the comforts and support of family back home. These 6 months flew as if in 6 hours - one of the best periods of my life. My mother was taking care of my daughter and I was taking care of the rest - which included getting 2 hours of body massage every day, getting involved and sorting out any teething issues in my father's business, renovating the house to prepare for my brother's wedding and finally actually attending the Indian wedding. It had everything I could have wished for. Before coming back to London, we decided to go for a short trip to the south of India, covering Chennai, Vellore and Pondicherry. Although exciting in its own way, it was a good lesson on how to take care of a baby on our own. This was the first time we were on our own with our 9 month old daughter and don't think we did a very good job. She fell sick, she became very weak as we did not feed her enough and was taking strong antibiotics. So much so that when my mother saw my daughter only for a night before leaving India to come to London, she got too worried about how frail she had become. In a night, whatever she could, she did to bring my daughter back to normal - this included giving her something to eat every hour or so. We just had not done a good job with regards to her food.

Coming back to London with a 9 month old with the experience and lesson learnt from the Chennai trip meant that we were better prepared and did not take anything for granted. After some initial hiccups I managed to find an amazing child minder who helped us out with taking her regular care. We started very gradually, a couple of hours initially going up to a full day in her 11th month. Once settled in with her, I started exploring joining back to work. I did not want any sudden changes in lifestyle - either for my daughter or for myself. Therefore getting back to work was also in a phased manner including moving my daughter away from breastfeeding to bottle feeding. I wanted to make sure that she was more independent and that I could trust somebody to take care of her when I am at work.

Life since then has been quite routined. She goes to the childminder Mondays to Thursdays and I take Fridays off (a clever tactic I used to not use up all my maternity leaves in one go, but spread them over throughout the year by taking a day off in the week and spending with the little one). Going back to work has been a brilliant feeling after a long hiatus. New and increased challenges have kept me busy so far. I have a busy day at work and busy evenings at home with the little one. I do sometimes miss not having the me-time, but then when I see the smile on her face for no reason or an un-demanded hug from her, all such wants disappear and I feel like spending each and every moment of my conscious self with her.