“Carter can you pick up your trucks? Cart? Can you just grab those and throw them in the bin? You’re gonna pick those up right? I’m gonna set the timer. So start picking them up. Carter? Cart?”
Here’s the thing, I’m relatively sure that I’m speaking. My lips are moving, I imagine sound is coming out, I think I’m forming sentences…
And I’m getting absolutely no response. He’s still sitting there happily moving his trucks around, making truck noises and completely ignoring me.
It’s times like these when I start to question my children’s auditory health. Maybe they need their ears checked again, there’s obviously a problem. I’m standing two feet from this kid and not getting a single response.
But as I’m sitting there contemplating calling the pediatrician they suddenly hear a big truck driving by the house and run to the window to check it out.
Oh. So you can hear things after all, huh? You’re not deaf.
You’re just Mom Deaf.
Mom Deafness is an epidemic that’s sweeping the nation. It’s a congenital disorder where the child is born with the ability to hear but somehow the brain blocks the sound of the maternal voice rendering the child unable to process its sound.
I know for a fact that Carter suffers from this. It’s the only explanation.
“Carter, don’t go in the fridge. You can have yogurt just wait for Mommy to get it for you. You better not even think about grabbing…put that back! Let me just finish what I’m doing and I’ll get it for you. Put it back. PUT IT BACK!”
The whole time I’m yelling this he’s casually going in the fridge and picking out his yogurt flavor thinking “Hmmm…is it a Strawberry Banana kind of day? Why yes! Yes it is!”
Then he’ll stare right at me as he opens the top (taking the time to lick it of course) and gets himself a spoon.
He must be Mom Deaf. Either that or he’s mentally composing a letter for me:
Dear Mom, I don’t give a shit what you’re saying. Unless you come and rip this delicious yogurt out of my slimy little hand I will continue to enjoy its creamy goodness. Love, Carter.
It always comes down to me having to physically stop him from doing whatever it is he’s doing. Mere words are not enough. I can say get off your brother precisely one million times with no effect. I have to lose it and go rip them apart. They wonder why I yell and get angry all the time. Being ignored is very frustrating.
I feel like Patrick Swayze in Ghost. I’m just hovering around my children trying to get their attention but I can only make things happen when I’m really mad.
But honestly, it’s not that they are ignoring me. They just can’t hear me. Their brains simply do not recognize the sound of my voice. Poor kids!