At this stage of my life, I find it nearly impossible to engage in an adult conversation in my own home without being interrupted by a small child. These little ones seem to believe that whatever they have to express is far more important than my current discussion.
These interruptions often take the form of an elaborate recounting of the latest television commercial for an irresistible product—like “Have you heard of moon sand?”—a subtle nudge for me to consider a purchase (“I think YOU would really love moon sand, Mom”), a random trivia nugget about a Guinness world record involving something utterly gross (“Did you know the longest fingernails on record were three feet long?”), or a loud plea for help in the bathroom (“CAN YOU HELP ME WIPE!?”).
My responses to these interruptions vary depending on the significance of the adult conversation I was having, my readiness to delve into a discussion about moon sand or lengthy dirty nails, and my level of annoyance at being disrupted. I’ve attempted multiple times, and not just in moments of frustration, to explain to these small beings that the universe, including their mother’s focused attention, does not revolve around them. Interrupting someone without a legitimate reason is, frankly, rude.
I’ve held this exchange more times than I can count:
“Are you on fire?”
“No.”
“Is someone else nearby on fire?”
“No.”
“Are you bleeding or is anyone else critically injured?”
“No.”
“Then, you can wait until I’m finished talking.”
And yet, they persist.
Sometimes, when I’m on the phone, they dart into the room, eager to speak, and I quickly raise my index finger in the universal sign for “please wait.” Once, this gesture meant “Just a moment, let me finish,” but now, especially with a furrowed brow and a pursed lip, it signals “If you interrupt me one more time today about something trivial, like an iPad app you want, I will make it my mission to ruin your happiness for the rest of the day, including dessert deprivation.”
However, my deepest frown is often no match for that relentless desire they have to blurt out their thoughts and gain immediate acknowledgement. “My wizard just reached level six!” “I think my right hand has fallen asleep!” “Is there chocolate on my face?!” “Max just stepped on my foot on purpose!”
Ultimately, the only real solution to my predicament is simply time. I know there will come a day when they won’t rush to share every fleeting thought with me. I won’t be their first point of contact for what they deem pressing matters. Sure, the topics will evolve and likely won’t revolve around moon sand, but I’ll be fortunate to hear about them during our bi-weekly guilt-driven phone calls—if they remember. (Cue the violins.)
For now, even though I dislike these interruptions and will continue to teach them the art of courtesy, I must remind myself that what matters to them deserves my attention too—even if it’s moon sand.
If you’re interested in related topics, you might want to explore our other blog post on the home insemination kit for further insights. Additionally, for authoritative information on pregnancy, I recommend checking out resources like the NIH’s page on pregnancy and highlights from the 2012 Pacific Coast Reproductive Society meeting.
Summary:
Parenting often entails constant interruptions from children eager to share their thoughts, making it difficult to maintain adult conversations. Despite the annoyance and attempts to teach them about timing and politeness, it’s essential to recognize their interests and acknowledge their feelings, even when they seem trivial.