In the fifteen hours that I’m awake each day, I spend sixteen hours listening to my son talk.
Each day goes something like this:
He opens his eyes, his mouth starts moving, and sixteen hours later I’m passed out from exhaustion.
My son is eight.
He’s full of life, energy, and ideas, and he’s the kind of kid who wants to verbalize it all.
From the time he opens his eyes until he crashes at night, he talks. He talks about what he wants for Christmas and his birthday. Both months away. He talks about video games, toys, friends, and family.
He goes on and on about places he wants to go, stuff he wants to do, and projects he wants to start.
He talks about his Halloween costume, Skylanders, and Legos. He talks about the show he’s watching, the picture he’s drawing, and the game he’s playing.
He even talks about talking.
“And then he said, and then I said, and then…”
He recently discovered he’s pretty good at texting. I was excited about this new found spelling skill and figured that the more time he spent texting with other people the less time he would be talking to me.
“And then I texted back and said…And then she texted back and said…”
Oh Good Lord! Will it ever stop?
During school hours he notoriously asks, “Mom, can I just tell you one more thing?”
It takes everything I have not to say, “NO. For the love of God. No. You cannot tell me one more thing.”
Sometimes my head feels like it’s going to explode and I have to say things like, “Ok, honey. Ok. I need five minutes. Give me five minutes with no talking.”
My tone of voice isn’t as sweet as those requests look, but yet they’re psychotically calm and usually just make my son feel like I’m blowing him off.
He takes it personally that I’m not fully engaged in the conversation, and I feel awful, but I can’t help it. I’m tired.
I can’t even hear what he’s saying come lunchtime. It all just starts to sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher after a certain point.
I know what you’re thinking.
I should be enjoying these fleeting years of motherhood and cherishing the moments and all that stuff, right?
I could wax poetic about how sweet the sound of his voice really is, because one phone call from him when I’m away and my heart just melts, but this is supposed to an honest blog. On a regular day, I’m really just trying to keep up!
Sometimes I want to hide in the bathroom to get a break, but he usually just comes to find me in there and talks to me through the door.
Good thing he’s so darn cute!
Do you have a verbal child?
Does it wear you down? How do you get a breather?
*To the mom who’s dealing with speech therapy, verbal delays, or something else that’s keeping your child from talking: I’m sorry. It was hard for me to write this post because I know that you’re out there. I acknowledge you and I’m thinking about you when I’m hanging on by a thread.
I’m linking up with Shell from Things I Can’t Say today, because well, this is a thing I can’t say.