H-Are you listening to me?Me-No I totally tuned you out.
As I was walking across the bridge with the girls to go get some ice cream, I realized why I haven’t shared any Tweets or Blog posts lately…because I’m not listening to them. You know, when your kids talk, and talk, and talk continuously, sometimes without taking a breath, you tend to start thinking of it as a little less cute and a little more like white noise. I hadn’t realized the extent to which I’d gone until I recognized the fact that I’d made Hudson tell the exact same story 3 times. Or maybe more, I wasn’t really paying attention.
Part of it is intentional and part of it is what I think they refer to as “being the parent.” The intentional part comes in to play when you’re having an “adult” conversation with someone and the little rug rat sees that as the perfect time to interrupt and dominate your previous conversation. I’ve tried to teach them manners, to say “excuse me,” and wait, but without fail, they forget two seconds later and go right back into interrupting cow mode. I’ve also tried to block out them fighting, as much as I can tolerate, hoping that their cries for attention/help sort themselves out. Usually they don’t, but I keep trying.
The “being a parent” part is what takes me back to my childhood, thinking that my parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles were all somehow hard of hearing. As any parent can attest, it’s hard to keep up with the ever-demanding needs of a toddler/kid, so at some point the sound of their voice doesn’t register on your regular hearing scale. Or you’re just so tired of dealing with the constant attention mongering little ones that you space off to whatever happy place lets you escape the noise. This usually results in a “What?” response to anything a kid says. Hence the repetition.
This isn’t to say that what they’re talking about these days still isn’t as funny or cute as it used to be, it’s quite the opposite actually. They say some of the most brilliant things now. The only problem is that what they say now most likely won’t fit into 140 characters, or would require me getting carpal tunnel from writing the lengthy blog posts about it. Generally, the extent to which they talk makes it virtually impossible for my brain to process it all or to recognize when something funny is said. It could also be that there are two of them, constantly competing for attention, therefore I’m forced to tune them out even more in order to limit the risk of my head exploding. That, or I’m just being a parent.