uh-huh Tale – Do I Listen?

My children are away this weekend, so I have been enjoying the sounds of silence.

In my soliloquy I was saying to myself it is really too often I tell my children they do not listen to me. I say this because they continue to leave messes for me when I have already reminded them endless times not to leave them.

Then I began to ask myself how well actually Do I Listen?

Well I’d like to call myself a good listener. Especially to my children. Of course they are the most important beings to me, and all they say and do matters. Yet whoa, sometimes there is some chatter and I do have to zone it out. For survival. Otherwise I really may go batty.

For instance while son totally loves to ignore me, he is also really great at badgering me relentlessly about something he “wants” or “needs.” He will go on for hours…about this certain “such and such” he “has to have” and he “really needs it because he just “really needs it”… and he will go and on and on. So when I am busy I drone him but say, “Uh-huh” so at least he knows I heard him.

My mini-me can vary as well. Due to a language disability, fluidity can be difficult for her, particularly if she is stressed or tired so I truly do try to listen carefully to everything she says. When she is relaxed and happy though…which is most of the time these days, she will talk non-stop. About everything. Definitely a wonderful thing. Sometimes though, I find I don’t catch every single word especially if I am running around or thinking about or worrying about something else.

She, on the other hand, is a VERY good listener, and does not miss a thing.  Once after a very long sentence she had conveyed to me about something she had done, which I believe was very belabored for her to relay, as she truly has to think about every word she says, and I hadn’t quite caught it all so I responded, “What was that?” She became so exasperated with me she exclaimed, “Mommy the reason why you didn’t hear what I said is because you were too busy talking to yourself!” Well now.

Another incident which comes to mind occurred last winter as I served my little guy dinner: I usually serve him first, as Mini-Me has later activities, he is younger and needs to go to bed earlier, etc.  In any case, this night he was eating in the Living Room watching a show, and casually mentioned his finger hurt. I noticed he was favoring his left pinky as he ate (he’s a lefty like me), so I grabbed some frozen peas for him. I asked him how it happened so he started to tell me, and I said, “Uh-huh,” and dashed back to the kitchen to make Mini-Me’s dinner.

Later that night as I tucked him into bed, my son held out his pinky and asked very quietly, “Mommy how long is my finger going to look this way?” At this point, I saw his pinky was bent towards one side and quite swollen. I gasped asking, “What on earth happened?!?”

Do I Listen?

Clearly not well enough. Otherwise, my son would not have had to tell me again as I raced with him to the ER, how he had fallen on his pinky before dinner jumping on our neighbor’s trampoline.

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