Chatty, Chat, Chatter. Er.


February 25, 2009 by Marj Hatzell

Bug Boy is just like his Momma.  He never. Shuts. Up.  Ever.  Never.  Whatevs.

I just spent the whole day with him.  Because G-d has a sense of humor, and I’ve been horribly ill for five days now, Bug Boy has come down with an ear infection. This is run-O-the-mill for us. As in, we’ve been there, done that, bought the tee shirt, asked for the refund.  It usually begins with him being disobedient (an eight-year-old being disobedient? SURELY YOU JEST.), then it takes several tries to call him away from anything he is doing (again, probably normal).  Then it takes RAISING YOUR VOICE A BIT MORE. If he’s fine, he’ll tell you that you are “hurting his ears when you know he doesn’t like that.”  If he has an ear infection, he’ll say, “Huh?  What did you say?”  At which time I look him in the eyes, speak louder and more firmly and he tells me that I don’t have to yell.

But when he’s talking to me (you talkin’ to me?) and he is loooooud and the tv is loooooud and he has racoony eyes and tells me his ears are stuck, I know that Houston, we have a problem.  I call the doc, we take him in. Today I knew it was only morning hours. Which means we miss some school. Some.  But after my chiro (still healing those discs. Fun.) and my GP (five people coughing their heads off ahead of me on the list.  Sigh, this is why I downloaded Scrabble to my phone.) it was noon, we hadn’t dropped off the prescriptions, we still had to head to his doc (which we missed, but she was gracious enough to see us tomorrow and call in a script) and hadn’t eaten lunch.  So home we went.  And then we slept all afternoon, which IS as glorious as it sounds.

Except for the part where I cannot breathe lying down. Or standing up. Or sitting.  And the part about me coughing like a dog bark when I recline.  And the part that my kid even talks as he is dozing off.  I mean, he’s all, “MOM!  I forgot to tell you I got to level forty-two of the blee boo blah blah bobby boo boo bub.”  And then the school buses start showing up (we live on THE corner in the neighborhood where all of the public and private school kids get dropped off between 2 and 4).  That’s when I gave up.

The boy just cannot stop talking. Ever. He talks in his sleep.  He chats in the car.  While I am discussing my throbbing head and sinuses with my doctor, he cuts in to tell her about the kids in his class who had the flu, who has had the dreaded chicken pox, who got the highest mark on their spelling test, his ears are clogged and everything sounds like spaghetti, his hair is naturally that awesome, his mole was removed in December and his Doctor was Doctor Doyle, he likes hospitals (especially the kids’ meals) and anything else he can think of in the space of five minutes.  Five. As in one number greater than four.  We go to the pharmacy and he gets diarrhea of the mouth and tells her our whole life story. We go to Wawa to grab quickie lunch and he proceeds to tell everyone in line (included the feisty old guy arguing about his receipt.  Over ten cents at WAWA.) and the cashiers that we are going to donate a dollar to variety because HE! HAS! AUTISM!  And his brother HAS! AUTISM!  And he just has a little AUTISM but some friends have more and some have less and some people have more than Bugaboo and some have less and LOOK!  They still have hash browns, may he PUHLEASE have a hash brown!  How about fruit!  They sell fruit here!  Here and there are some of his spelling words.

I may or may not have gotten every word.  I mean, it’s not like I have great auditory memory and remember just about everything I hear (OK, I totally do, and I cannot fall asleep at night because I am still hearing voices in my head. Shut up, you hear them, too.).  And the husband wonders why I stay up too late doing crap like this on the computer. Um. It’s because I have one kid who never, ever stops chatting and another kid who has never technically started, and be careful what you wish for because the other one will probably start talking and be five times faster and louder and more ADHD when he talks then the other one. I can just see it now.  I’ve cried and agonized and accepted the fact that he may never, ever learn to speak and I’m beginning to enjoy him just the way he is and you watch. Tomorrow the little Bugger is gonna wake up and start reciting the Gettysburg address.  Or an epic poem or something.  Or start reciting car engine manuals like his father.  Little Bugger probably knows how to read already, too.

2 thoughts on “Chatty, Chat, Chatter. Er.

  1. RuthWells says:

    I’m exhausted just hearing about it.

  2. Me too.

    He’s still cute though.

Got Stuff to Say? Say Stuff here.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Your Cruise Director

Domestic Goddess

Smile, the world will wonder what you're up to.

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email. Or don't. Whatevs. Just don't make me cry.

Join 1,000 other followers

Stuff I talk about

Stuff I talked about a long time ago

Blog Stat Stuff

  • 361,660 people who want to read my stuff

Copyright stuff

All stuff on this here site Copyright 2004-2014 by Marj Hatzell. Please don't be a dweeb and plagiarize. Remember Santa is watching. Registered & Protected

%d bloggers like this: