Listen, You can Almost Not Hear Me!


If you’re writing a blog and no one comments, does it make a sound?

Well, not a sound. But you know what I mean. I just feel a bit like nobody’s listening to me.  Which might be OK — except I feel that way a lot.  Like when I say to my kids, “time to brush your teeth,”  walk them to the bathroom, put their toothbrushes in their hands, and come back five minutes later to find them sitting on the floor playing Monopoly, toothbrushes abandoned, breath as rancid as a dead fish on a hot dock. Or when I say, for the bazillionth time, “put your clothes in the hamper” only to watch my son walk by his pants, crumpled in a heap on the floor, on his way to grab a toy off his shelf.  There are my constant, unheard admonitions to sit at the dinner table, hang up their coats, stop yelling, do your homework.  It’s endless.  No wonder they don’t hear me.  I wouldn’t want to listen to that all day.

My husband doesn’t hear me either.  I’ll say to him, “I bumped into your friend Ted today.” and he’ll answer “You bumped your head on some hay?”  which doesn’t even make sense.

I actually set him for a hearing test.  The doctor laughed and told him that innumerable men get sent to him by their wives.

Of course Hubby’s hearing was fine.  He’s not deaf, he’s just ignoring me, to borrow a well-known t-shirt saying.   There’s actually a song with that title, but nobody listens to it. (some four-letter lyrics – clicker beware)

If I ignored my kids as much as they ignore me, I’d be called in for child abuse.  Can you imagine?  “Mommy, mommy, can I please have some water?”  And I’d just walk right by the fridge on my way to the Barney’s Warehouse sale. Or “Mommy, Mommy, I think I broke my leg!”  and I’d just smile vaguely on my way to the gym.  That’d show ’em.

They listen when I read to them.  I’m like the Jim Dale of Mommies – with a voice for every character.  That gets their attention.  So maybe that’s it.  Maybe I should put on an Irish brogue when I tell them to clear their plate, a French accent when I want them to drink their milk, a southern twang when it’s time to turn off the tv.  I’ll be the Meryl Streep of nagging.  I think I’ll try it.  Hey, whatever works, right?

I’ll let you know how it works out.

Comments

  1. says

    They never hear me around my house, either. In fact, the toothbrushing/Monopoly incident could have happened at my house. My stepson get sent to the bathroom to take his shower…and he literally forgets that’s why he’s there. Twenty minutes later, he’s still staring at himself in the mirror and the water hasn’t been turned on yet.

    Well, that’s not exactly the same thing as not listening, but it definitely qualifies as not paying attention.

    Let us know how the accent thing works out.

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