It’s the disclaimer people always include when they want to complain about their kids without seeming like a monster. I love them but…Everyone loves their kids, even assassins and Nazis love their kids, so it’s not much of a justification.
I love my kids, but sometimes I wish they’d shut up for a little while.
Just typing that I’m waiting for a bolt of lightning to streak down and crisp me up good.
Yes, there are moments when I’m hanging on their every word, marveling at their insight, their compassion, their creativity, their comedy. Other times though, I’m staring at them blankly, dutifully appearing to listen as they complain, coerce or otherwise yap themselves in to redundancy.
It goes beyond the hey-mom-look-what-I-can-do cry for attention as they jump two inches off the ground for the eleventy thousandth time. Although that on its own gets pretty irritating.
There are the constant pleas for stuff they feel they need. Now. They need it right now and will rattle off a list of reasons why said object is an absolute necessity lest the earth suddenly ends its rotation. There are the constant fights that erupt and the subsequent explanations from both parties as to why they felt compelled to throttle their sibling to near unconsciousness over a package of Skittles.
Then there’s the teenager, who I am eternally grateful trusts me enough to share some of the details of her life. Truly grateful. I just wish she weren’t so damn repetitive. I just wish every sentence she uttered didn’t revolve around her in some way, which 98% of the time they do.
A typical dinner conversation-
Me: I was reading today about a woman who invented a bra that converts in to a gas mask. Seems bizarre yet oddly practical in today’s charged political climate.
Husband: Yet another thing I didn’t invent but wish I had.
Teen: OMG, did I tell you I had a bagel today in the cafeteria but then they ran out of chocolate milk so I walked up to this guy who I don’t even know and asked him if I could have his and he was like, for you, sure. It was hilarious.
Me: *blinking*
Husband: *rolling his eyes*
Other Children: *chewing*
Don’t get me wrong, this kind of stuff is fascinating when you’re fifteen. Not so much at 34. It’s good to have a link to her inner workings, I just wish they were a little more air tight.
At least after fifteen years my brain has gotten fairly adept at filtering out the useless information. Although occasionally I disregard a crucial detail in the process of decluttering.
“Mom did you wash my P.E. shorts? I need them for class today.”
“You didn’t tell me that?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Are you sure? I don’t remember that.”
“I told you last night before dinner, while you were taking the chicken out of the oven and screaming at the baby to back away from the hot door…”
“Uhm. Yeah.”
I know I’ll miss the noise some day when they’re grown and leading their own lives with nary a phone call to find out if I’m still alive and taking my arthritis medication.
I’ll miss the noise.
Right now I just miss the quiet.
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Have a confession to make?
Hilarious ; -) Mine are 20 and 17 and when I get the house to myself on a weekend as they are aout and about, I love the quiet. I figure some day I’ll miss the noise, but that day has not come yet.
I’m laughing with you, not at you. Teenagers. I can’t wait.
Bwahahaha!
I love the way you Spin it!
Memo to self: once I get number 2, shut down the factory…
You’re linked!
Oh, boy can I relate! I miss the quiet so much. The worst part is that if I dare complain about the excessive chattiness of my daughter (Seriously the girl NEVER stops talking. And she is incredibly repetitive!) I invariably have a friend remind me of how worried I was when my son WASN’T talking. Basically, since Danny was so delayed in his speech, I am supposed to be eternally grateful that Charlotte never shuts up. And I am grateful that her speech is impeccable and quite advanced. But still. Some quiet once in a while would be so nice.
Do not feel guilty. I quite often regret the money I spent teaching them to talk.
I also miss quiet. I hear it comes back some day.
This IS annoynmous right? I mean no one can track it back to me that for the third night I’ve told my kids {insert very cheerful cheerleader voice} “Let’s have red table night!” That’s code for here, watch a movie in the tv room while eating dinner so I don’t have to listen to either of you a) whine b) fight
I’ll be at the dining room table with my ipod and book eating in peace thanks.
Quiet. Remind what that is again…
I love the chocolate milk and how it relates to the bra gas mask (and in a teenager’s mind, I am sure it does). My six year old talks just to hear herself speak (truly, she often doesn’t care if someone is listening or not). There are times I fantasize about getting a hotel room all to myself just for the silence. It has nothing to do with my feelings for my kids, just the ringing in my ears and constant headache.
LMBO I’ve had the same thoughts when Meg’s said “Guess What?” for the millionth time. Eeee we all think it from time to time don’t we? just don’t say it for fear of being a bad mom. Loved your spin!
Here I thought she was going to suggest the gas mask bra be used to drink chocolate milk from.
LOVED your spin! 
That was friggin’ hilarious!!! Love the vision of kids hopping 2 inches off the ground for the eleventieth thousanth time, but the description of your daughter’s story at dinner – pure poetry. Oh, man. How can teenagers be so unbelievably self absorbed? It’s hilarious. My kids are scared to tell me those kind of stories, because I start fake snoring. If I’m feeling ultra sarcastic, I’ll drool on myself until they stop.
HA! Oh if I had a nickle for every time I wished my kids would just be quiet I’d be a millionaire!!! Now, I have so much “quiet” I wish for those times back.
I cannot even imagine the level of constant talking that must go on in your home with four children. Cannot imagine.
Sometimes mmy teenager talks a LOT…but lately, it’s a rarity so that when he does start talking, I have to just cherish it.
What?? Chocolate milk is big stuff!
I don’t mind it just yet. When he’s a teenager. . . oh right. He’s a boy. He’ll stop talking to me, go into his room and become a member of the trench coat something or others and FREAK ME OUT.
No, I’m not serious. Don’t call the police. I won’t let that happen.
I don’t think….
Ha, that was hilarious, asking a guy for chocolate milk. Ok, not so much but I’m with you on getting tired of forced enthusiasm for the same little two inch hop over and over and over.
That bra idea is great, some of us would be perfectly gas mask equipped during an emergency. Others, not so much..
OH! My God. I KNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW~ If I have to listen to one more stinkin 10 minute story or 15 minutes of explaining a DREAM? Thank you for this post, I thought I was alone here on this! lol