In this stage of my life, having an uninterrupted adult conversation in my own home seems nearly impossible. A small child often feels the need to interject with thoughts or requests that they deem far more important than the discussion at hand. These interruptions can take various forms, such as an elaborate pitch for a new toy (“Have you heard about moon sand?”), a subtle hint aimed at persuading me to buy it (“I think YOU would really enjoy moon sand, Mom”), random trivia about bizarre Guinness world records (“Did you know the longest fingernails ever measured three feet?”), or an urgent plea for assistance in the bathroom (“CAN YOU HELP ME WIPE!?”).
My responses to these disruptions fluctuate based on the significance of the conversation I’m engaged in, my interest in discussing topics like moon sand or long, dirty nails, and my overall annoyance at the interruption. I’ve attempted numerous times—not only in moments of irritation—to explain to these little ones that the universe, including their mother’s attention, does not revolve around their whims. Interrupting without a valid reason is simply impolite. The conversation often goes like this:
“Are you on fire?”
“No.”
“Is someone else near you on fire?”
“No.”
“Are you bleeding or is anyone critically injured?”
“No.”
“Then you can wait until I finish talking.”
Despite my efforts, they persist. When I’m on the phone, they often rush into the room, mouths ready to spill their thoughts, prompting me to raise my index finger as a universal signal for waiting. This gesture, once an innocent “give me a moment,” has morphed into a stern warning: “If you interrupt me once more today with something trivial, particularly regarding that iPad app you’re eyeing, I will ensure your happiness is curtailed for the rest of the day, including dessert.”
However, my most intense glare often falls short against their eager need to share their immediate thoughts: “My wizard just leveled up!” “I think my right hand is asleep!” “Do I have chocolate on my face?!” “Max just stepped on my foot on purpose!”
Ultimately, the only real solution to this predicament is time. I recognize that a day will arrive when they won’t rush to share their daily dilemmas with me. I won’t be their first choice for sharing these pressing concerns. While the nature of their issues will evolve—likely moving beyond moon sand—I may only hear about them during obligatory bi-weekly phone calls that they make out of guilt when they remember. (Cue the violins here.)
So, while I may dislike being interrupted and will continue to teach them the value of patience, I strive to remember that what is significant to them should also matter to me, even if it involves moon sand. For additional insights on navigating parenthood, check out this related blog post on home insemination practices.
In conclusion, the journey of parenting is filled with interruptions and challenges. Embracing these moments, even when frustrating, can foster a deeper bond with our children.