SHUT IT!

“What street are we on?  What color is Nana’s house?  When is Daddy coming home?  Can I have a snack?  Can I have a drink?  Can I color?  Can I watch a show?  Can I…Can I…Can I????”

Can you…SHUT THE FUCK UP!

Recently I’ve really started to regret teaching Carter how to talk.

It was cute at first but now it’s getting to the ridiculous point.  He does not shut up.  Ever.  He even talks in his sleep.  There are times when I honestly cannot stand the sound of his voice.  I feel like I’m being stabbed in the eye with an ice pick every time I hear him speak.  And that is a very tame and loving description of my feelings…

Usually he’s just asking innocent toddler questions so I feel like such an awful parent asking him to take it down a notch.  I mean, I do it anyway obviously.  But since I can’t use the phrase “shut up” I try to come up with different phrases to get my point across.

“Can you zip your lips, please?”
“How?  I don’t have a zipper.  What does that mean?  Do you have a zipper on your lips?”

Well, that backfired.

I was in Target this week (all mom blogs have a ‘so I was in Target’ entry, huh?) Anyway, I was in Target and could absolutely not hear myself think because the boys were just yelling out everything they observed and were expecting me to go “Yeah, that is a man wearing a red shirt.  Uh huh, there’s a dog on that sign.”  The needed validation that I was actually listening to them…which usually I’m not so I don’t blame them. 

I finally reached my breaking point and said “I just need you to stop talking.  STOP TALKING!”

A lady walking by gave me a “wow, you’re a mean mom” look.  I wanted to duct tape my children to her and make her walk around all day listening to them. 

To clarify, my annoyance isn’t exclusively dedicated to his question asking.  It’s his noises in general.  He’ll be playing with his toys going “Wah ba do bee doop bee baaaaah!!”  I’m sorry, are you having a stroke?

Where is it written that boys absolutely MUST make strange noises with their mouths? I don’t want to hear the sound effects that accompany your bulldozer running over your monster truck.  I just don’t.  Cut it out.

The other problem we have is his volume control.  He has none.  Asking him to whisper is like asking him to go do long division.  He’s never done either. 

So naturally at the end of a long day when my husband comes home all I want to do is pour a glass of wine, hop on the computer and ignore everyone around me.  And clearly all he wants to do is talk to me about my day.

“How were the boys?  Did you go anywhere?  What do you want for dinner?”

Oh.My.God.

If you don’t get away from me I can’t guarantee your safety.  Unless you are refilling my wine glass I need you to piss off…and I say that in the most loving way possible!