I remember when I wondered if Parker would ever start talking... barely.
A rare occasion... she's sitting still.
Parker, my nearly-four-year-old, never. Stops. Talking. My ears have battered woman syndrome. They literally flinch when my eyes, all panic-filled, tell them she's headed toward me. My mind tells them it's going to be okay, this time will be better, this time she won't hurl her misguided and unfounded, nonsensical string of words at me.
Wrong.
I’ve decided she’s the 4-year-old equivalent of all of my ex-boyfriends combined. She’s like, the worst boyfriend EVER. She’s super needy, but super finicky; cat-like in her adeptness at finicky. She’s all over me 90% of the time. Forcing me to give her upside-down Spider-Man kisses every time I leave her presence (even in public- she’s a PDA lover). She tells me I’m beautiful, but criticizes my cooking. And this never-shutting-up-thing she has going on is seriously going to do me in- at least my sanity will be done in.
So, we had to have "The Talk". I needed to explain to her that this isn't a humane way to live. Her voice, once thought of as so sweet and sugary, now pains my every ounce of being. Once I mustered up the courage, here's how it went down:
"Parker, we need to talk." She doesn't know to loathe that statement yet.
"Okay, Mom. Just one segund (second). Can I tell you one more thing first, Mom? When I was a little baby I lived in your belly and then in Jo's belly and we were walking in the forest and we saw a baby bear and the bear was... was... the bear.... NO! Mom! I don't mean the bear, I mean... are we going to Starbuckys (Starbucks)? I think I don't like chicken nuggets anymore because Evie said her mom went to the UNITED STATES OF NAMRICA (America)! YES, MOM! That's where she lives and I do, tooooo!"
"PARKER! Stop, please... let ME talk for just a moment, please..."
"What? What, Mom?"
"Okay, Little Miss P, here's the thing," as I reach over and touch her soft little arm (I read to do this when you're having a serious discussion with someone so that person feels safe and secure), "don't take this the wrong way, because I really do love you and I love everything about you, but sometimes I feel that I just need some space... You know, what I mean? Like, I could use a little break from you. Just for a little bit. I just need to focus some energy on myself .... for a little bit. And it'll be great for you, too. Just think, you can really get to know yourself and who YOU are. I really do love you, I'm just not sure that I'm IN love with you. So I need a bit of separation to get my bearings straight and figure my own head out. You know? It's not personal at all. I love you so much and a break will only make us stronger."
Did I just give my daughter the bullshit break-up talk?
"I love you too, Mom. Amen. You say 'amen' to God sometimes. God made everything. Even cows and chocolate. I put chocolate in the bird. The plastic bird thing. Let's do yoga. I need my yoga pants on, Mom. I'm gonna go get 'em. Do you want to do yoga with me, Mom? Axl can't do it. He can't touch my mat, Mom. Seriously. That gets me so mad! He always takes my kitty and I don't like that. Sometimes you wake him up and then I get so mad! Why do you wake him up? Can we watch Frozen? The sun will come out tomorrow, bet a yer buddom dollar that tomorrow they'll be some. Do you know that song? Yes, you do. You do, Mom."
The bullshit break-up talk never worked on any of my old boyfriends and Parker is, like, 10 times smarter than any of them, so why I thought it'd work on her I don't know.
I guess we'll just continue to play the I'll-give-you-a-thousand-dollars-if-you-stay-quiet-for-one-minute game, that game always buys me about 8 seconds of peace.
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