Crazy Talk

by Patti

The other day I was Gmail chatting with Cathy, trying to work out the logistics of our girls’ ballet rehearsals this weekend. Back and forth we went, throwing out options for what to do between classes: Could we sneak in a movie? – Oh! Let’s not forget to pack lunches! - Wait, it’s probably best not to bring Ari since it will be a long day – Hey! Let’s go to Old Orchard and let them play on the big rubber rocks! –- I need new shoes – I’m coming down with a cold – The big rubber WHATS?

If I had printed out the transcript of our online conversation, it would have been one big schizophrenic symphony of disjointed thoughts.

Yet, we understood each other perfectly well.

BECAUSE THIS IS HOW WE TALK IN EVERYDAY LIFE.

There is rarely a time when we get together that we can finish a sentence. Ari is still little and demanding of attention, so that right there is a naturally occurring time suck. The older girls, Bella and S, can fend for themselves, but they, too, demand attention in a different way. “Look at my runway walk!” “Can we look at bras?” “Mom! Listen to my French accent!” “Watch our play. We just wrote it!” “Will you judge our talent contest?”

So while Ari needs her milk, or is whining because the older girls are ignoring her, and the older girls are writing and producing and starring in their own version of Nickelodeon and insisting we be the viewing audience, WHILE at the same time whining because the little one is LOOKING at them, we speak in broken, disjointed sentences.

And it has become such a habit that we do it even when we don’t have to.

“Why are you yelling?” M asks, when I am loudly and hurriedly spewing out a story of something that happened during my day.

“Mom! You are talking so fast!” says S when I am hammering out orders.

I am a victim of Pavlovian Conditioning. Mere conversation triggers in me a horrible fear of not being able to finish a sentence. It's that simple.

So as Cathy and I speedily typed our thoughts back and forth to each other, sometimes typing over each other before the other could answer what was just asked, I marveled at how we seemed to have our very own language that, while to the eyes and ears of another might seem crazy, made absolute, perfect sense to us.