Maybe when I speak, I'm secretly speaking a foreign language that they don't understand.
Maybe I speak in a unique frequency that they are unable to hear.
Maybe it's that they are virtually never quiet enough to hear anything but the roar that comes from their own heads.
I think it's the last one, to be honest.
My children also seem to think that since they can't hear me, I can't hear them. But, oh dear god of the flowers, I can.
I can hear them all of the ever-loving time.
I actually told Brennan (5) tonight, that I no longer cared if he went to sleep. All I wanted at this point in my day, was for him to be quiet. Just quiet. That's not too much to ask, right? He could whisper, he didn't have to sleep, he just had to put his two lips together and stop making all of the noise.
He's in time-out again.
My children also seem to hate sleep. Liam is crying, no one wants to stop playing, and I'm weary in my bones. The kind of tired that could leave me falling asleep doing just about anything. You have no idea how much I just want to lay down on the keyboard right now.
I know this doesn't last forever. My older kids listen to me. They tell me important things, and trust me with their secrets.
And I know that there is a beauty to these early developmental stages that you can never get back once they're older.
But if someone could convince them, even a little bit, that I can hear them, and that they should be quiet once and a while and listen? I would kiss that person, and buy them a pony.
And then I'd kiss the pony.
Yes, still very tired.
*****
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