Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy
I love my boy. I really do. But I am going to go berserk, pull out my own hair, rip off my clothes and run screaming through the streets of Austin if I hear "Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy" even one more time.
Lena is within 6 feet of him, so he screams "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"
He dropped his juice, so he cries "Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy."
His ball went under the sofa, so he whines "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy."
He needs help buckling his sandals, so he whimpers "Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy."
Lena is playing contentedly, independently, with complete disregard for him with a sock, 8 feet away from him so he points at her bawling, "Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy!"
Does it matter if I respond immediately? No.
Does it matter if I don't answer at all? No.
Does it matter if I'm holding him? No.
Does it matter if I'm standing next to him, looking at him, begging him to please move on to the next paragraph? No.
Is he really even talking to me at all? No, I don't think so.
This morning between 6:45 and 9 a.m., I must have heard my name screamed at least 95 times. I am not exaggerating. If I had a nickel for every time Elias screamed "Mommy" in a ridiculously high-pitched voice this morning alone, I would have $4.75.
That's enough to buy ear plugs at Walgreens.
Lena is within 6 feet of him, so he screams "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"
He dropped his juice, so he cries "Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy."
His ball went under the sofa, so he whines "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy."
He needs help buckling his sandals, so he whimpers "Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy."
Lena is playing contentedly, independently, with complete disregard for him with a sock, 8 feet away from him so he points at her bawling, "Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy!"
Does it matter if I respond immediately? No.
Does it matter if I don't answer at all? No.
Does it matter if I'm holding him? No.
Does it matter if I'm standing next to him, looking at him, begging him to please move on to the next paragraph? No.
Is he really even talking to me at all? No, I don't think so.
This morning between 6:45 and 9 a.m., I must have heard my name screamed at least 95 times. I am not exaggerating. If I had a nickel for every time Elias screamed "Mommy" in a ridiculously high-pitched voice this morning alone, I would have $4.75.
That's enough to buy ear plugs at Walgreens.
Comments
Yes, it's annoying to me that the only time they are quiet is when they're up to something. And sometimes I debate whether or not it's worth it to find out what it is or to have some peace...
Hang in there-- hope everything calms down soon!