A Love Letter to My Children Who Never Stop Talking
My Darling Children,
I love you so, so, so much. God only knows how much I love you. I don’t even know yet. My love for you is like the universe: vast, unknowable, myself tiny inside its constantly expanding wilderness.
But seriously, please, stop talking. Stop talking for one minute, please, please my child, my heart that beats outside my own body, I love you so much and shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh sh sh sh sh sh sh sh sh sh sh sh— oh my God are you still talking?
Baby your mind is a miracle and I cannot imagine my life without you for one second except this second which I can imagine without the sound of your voice and it’s really really good, baby, it’s exactly what I need, so can you just—
Okay can you watch a show? Watch a show. Any show! All the shows! Go turn on a show. Mommy needs to stand on the cold deck on the other side of a closed door from you, my soul mate, because I love you just the way you are, every minute of every day, and also when you’re quiet.
BABY I CAN’T COME WATCH A SHOW WITH YOU RIGHT NOW. WHY? BECAUSE YOU’LL TALK TO ME ABOUT IT. THE WHOLE POINT OF YOU WATCHING A SHOW IS SO I DON’T HAVE TO TALK TO YOU FOR 22 MINUTES. YES MOMMY LOVES SHOWS TOO AND MOMMY LOVES YOU MORE THAN OXYGEN, BABY. NO I CAN’T— Okay fine, show me this one thing.
WOW THAT WAS AWESOME SO FUNNY OKAY I’M GOING TO TAKE A SHOWER SO JUST WATCH YOUR SHOW AND—
SWEETHEART? I AM IN. THE. SHOWER. What? No, I don’t know what’s going on. Have you tried restarting the TV? Is it just Netflix or is it the internet? Try Disney. I know you don’t want to watch Disney but if you just check to see if it’s -- OKAY, I’LL BE RIGHT THERE. No yeah you should definitely sit on the toilet and talk to me while I’m getting out of the shower. Wow. Yeah. So it says it can’t play that title right now? I’m so glad you told me. No you’re right that’s so weird...
Look at that, it’s working again. No, I know. Sometimes TVs are weird. I’m going to go finish drying off and then I’m going to do the dishes, okay baby? And while I’m doing the dishes I’m going to listen to my audiobook. Okay I love you! I love you more than anyone has ever loved anyone in the history of existence and I would do anything for you! WHAT’S THAT? I CAN’T HEAR YOU MY EARBUDS ARE IN, LISTENING TO MY STORY BABE, WATCH YOUR SHOW.
Yes honey. What is it.
I’m going to answer your question with a question. Do you know where the popcorn is? Do you know where the microwave is? Okay, so yes, you can have popcorn. No, I’m not making your popcorn.
Darling, I’m so proud of your independence and the way you’re growing, inside and out, every single day. It’s the greatest joy and privilege of my life to get to watch and sometimes guide you. Do you believe me? Good. Now listen to me.
I have been parenting you and playing with you and listening to you and reading to you and teaching you and mentoring you and analyzing you and monitoring you and feeding you and bathing you and nurturing you and probably modeling some flawed coping mechanisms to you for the past nine months.
Most of the time I look at you and I see a human being, like me, caught in the chaos of the world, like me, grasping for some sense of connection and control, just like me. And most of the time, when you ask for connection by talking every waking minute of the day, I meet you there. I connect right back, because you delight me and your heart is always on my mind. I dream about your joy. It is my privilege to try to fill your bottomless appetite for connection.
BUT I AM OUT TODAY. I’M FRESH OUT. Please hear the tenderness in my voice and feel the way I brush your long, long hair out of your eyes when I tell you, Mommy needs you to shut up and go away for one whole hour, mmkay pumpkin?
I thought it would feel good to type those words, my darling, but it doesn’t. It feels shameful. I looked at your perfect face, heard your sweet voice, then thought, then made real two requests that I would have mouthed at my mother’s back when I was a petulant teenager. Maybe, sweet potato, you’re not the only one who’s regressed a bit. Maybe you’re not the only one who needs a little TLC.
I’ll think about that. I will. I’ll think about how I can be there for you without resentment or rising claustrophobia. I’ll think about how I can nurture myself as I’d nurture my child. I’ll think about sshhhhhhhhhhhhh DUDE I AM STILL TALKING—
If you liked this post, you might also like Parenthood is Misery and I Hope it Never Ends - it’s from the before times, so it’s about a trip to a Children’s Museum! Remember those?!?
If this post made you laugh, cry, laughcry, or look into your reflection in a funhouse mirror, like kind of funny but also you’ll be thinking about it tonight while you try to fall asleep, please consider hitting my tip jar at PayPal, or becoming a monthly investor at Patreon.
$5 or $10 might not mean much to you, but this blog exists because of readers like you! Thank you for being here!