Funny Stuff


(Happy New Year. 14 days late. My 2013 blogging is off to a stellar start. I do what I can.)

Sometimes I just want to go back in time & slap my old self. I hope I’m not the only one. If Doc Brown could take me in his fancy car back to May 2011 when I had a one year old uttering only a few words & phrases & I often wondered if he would ever learn to talk, well let’s just say 2013 Heidi would smack 2011 Heidi across the face and say, “GET A GRIP, WOMAN.” Let me tell you, this kid can talk. I should not have wasted a moment worrying about his verbal skills, because at this stage of his life, he exercises them constantly.

Oh sure, it’s cute. And really, how exciting is it when your baby first looks at you and speaks intelligible words? It’s great. And their tiny, toddler voices? The definition of adorable. The problem is that once they learn, they never ever stop talking. People told me boys are rowdy and girls are chatty. People lied. They didn’t tell me that you can have a rowdy and chatty child. Official warning to all new boy moms: Sometimes they talk as much or more than girls. This is a sample of any given 10 minutes of my day:

Mom, is that your hair?

Hey mom, watch this.

Are these your sleeves? I like your sleeves.

Daddy’s at work.

I look like Tyler.

I’m big, you’re small, mommy.

Hey mom.

Watch this.

Where’s daddy?

I want play dough.

I need a drink.

I want a banana.

Hey, I’m chasing Peanut.

Momma, you are cray cray.

It never freaking stops. All day. Every day. I sometimes find myself near tears while answering the 1,456th question of the day. I’ve contemplated writing a letter to President Obama to offer Lincoln’s services during interrogations with terrorists. Who needs water-boarding to get info out of those guys when you could just lock them in a room with my son & his incessant talking and question-asking for 24 hours? They would be begging for mercy. We’ll tell you whatever you want to know,  just make that kid stop talking.

There are some days when I have to implement mommy timeouts after Mike gets home. I have actually uttered these words: “Mommy is taking a break from talking. Please direct all questions to daddy until further notice.”

Thankfully in the midst of the 300 questions and completely random statements, there are also these phrases:

I love you, mommy.

Mommy, you’re pretty.

Hey, give me kisses.

Mommy, you’re a princess.

(My friends will know that this is the only time I allow the word “princess” to be spoken near me)

I love my little chatty talking machine. Oh, how I love him. I still think we could win the War on Terror with his help though. To all the mommas waiting on those little ones to learn to talk, enjoy the silence and the babbling that doesn’t require you to provide answers. It will soon be replaced with, “Is that your foot, momma?” and other nonsense.

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2 thoughts on “Chatty

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