Chatterboxes
It is the Friday before Easter, known as Good Friday to us, and a good Friday it is. We woke up cold, but we woke up. So we thanked the good Lord. Don't worry, I have not gone preachy on you overnight or anything. Sometimes, you just have to remember all of the good stuff you have in your life, and be grateful for it. And so I am.
Thanks to the multitude of viruses we have been battling as of late, we have no plans to travel over the Easter weekend. Likewise, no one is coming to see us. I am under the impression that our families really don't need an Easter bunny that just keeps on giving or a virus that sticks around until Pentecost. And to be honest, I just don't mind that we will hopefully have a calm and quiet Easter weekend at home.
My only concern is that if the weather is not nice, Tim and I might be trapped inside with our kids.What? Why is that all of a sudden a problem? Well, I will tell you. Our children have become very talkative. Chatty, loose-lipped, you have a name for it? That they are. All four of them have been talking me into the ground lately. And I don't know what to do about it.
One thing the kids like to do is tell stories. But how many times can I hear the same story? Four times, because I have four kids, of course. And if one kid tells me something, you can bet the next kid will come up not even 5 minutes later and tell me the same thing. If I say that I already heard the story, they tell me that no, I haven't. They have more details to give. Details my eye! In the end, all I hear is blah blah blah, because by the 4th time, I am just tired of hearing it! I haven't told them this, but if I turn on the faucet and clean the dishes, I get a little reprieve from hearing that story again. I just have to remember to shut the water off and give an appropriate response.
I know how bad that all sounds, because I know how important it is to listen to your kids, to make their feelings feel valid, and to make them feel significant. If I didn't think I was doing a somewhat adequate job there, I'd probably be more apt to listen to the same story again and again and again.
And the talking doesn't stop there. At dinner the other night, there was a round robin of words going on. It was almost too much for us to keep up with. (So much that I just ended my sentence with a preposition, and because I am still so raddled, I am not going to fix it!) Tim and I looked at one another, and promptly had a vocabulary lesson with the kids -- we taught them verbose and loquacious. Very cool words, if you ask me. Just not when you live with 4 people that can be described that way.
The weird thing is, both Tim and I are what I'd consider non-talkers. Don't get me wrong, I have a lot to say (as evidenced by this blog), or I think I have a lot to say, but I am not a big talker. Unless I know someone well, I don't say much. I'd rather grab a book and sit in the corner than be put into a pit with people I don't know. Tim could say the same. And so here I am, on Good Friday, completely happy and thankful that a virus came into town. It might have wreaked havoc for a bit in the house, but it saved us from sitting in a car and having to listen to non-stop chattering for 4 hours.
(Yes, I know that when the kids are older and out of the house, I will be begging for them to come back and make some noise. And I won't be mad at you when you remind me that I said all of the above.)
One thing the kids like to do is tell stories. But how many times can I hear the same story? Four times, because I have four kids, of course. And if one kid tells me something, you can bet the next kid will come up not even 5 minutes later and tell me the same thing. If I say that I already heard the story, they tell me that no, I haven't. They have more details to give. Details my eye! In the end, all I hear is blah blah blah, because by the 4th time, I am just tired of hearing it! I haven't told them this, but if I turn on the faucet and clean the dishes, I get a little reprieve from hearing that story again. I just have to remember to shut the water off and give an appropriate response.
I know how bad that all sounds, because I know how important it is to listen to your kids, to make their feelings feel valid, and to make them feel significant. If I didn't think I was doing a somewhat adequate job there, I'd probably be more apt to listen to the same story again and again and again.
And the talking doesn't stop there. At dinner the other night, there was a round robin of words going on. It was almost too much for us to keep up with. (So much that I just ended my sentence with a preposition, and because I am still so raddled, I am not going to fix it!) Tim and I looked at one another, and promptly had a vocabulary lesson with the kids -- we taught them verbose and loquacious. Very cool words, if you ask me. Just not when you live with 4 people that can be described that way.
The weird thing is, both Tim and I are what I'd consider non-talkers. Don't get me wrong, I have a lot to say (as evidenced by this blog), or I think I have a lot to say, but I am not a big talker. Unless I know someone well, I don't say much. I'd rather grab a book and sit in the corner than be put into a pit with people I don't know. Tim could say the same. And so here I am, on Good Friday, completely happy and thankful that a virus came into town. It might have wreaked havoc for a bit in the house, but it saved us from sitting in a car and having to listen to non-stop chattering for 4 hours.
(Yes, I know that when the kids are older and out of the house, I will be begging for them to come back and make some noise. And I won't be mad at you when you remind me that I said all of the above.)
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