DIZMOMMY > I'm Not Stupid, I Swear


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December 11, 2014

I'm Not Stupid, I Swear

When it comes to verbal skills, I’m sort of a mess. I fumble, I jumble, and I mispronounce words ALL the time. I suffer from flash-think…aka rapid thoughts that confuse my poor slowmo mouth. The result? “Do you want to eat your movie and watch your dinner?” Though my knack for ditzy speech used to sadden me (I’M NOT STUPID I SWEAR!), I’ve gotten pretty good at not acknowledging the slips as they happen. I don’t bother correcting myself anymore. Instead, I exude inflated confidence, scream internally, and roll with it. But apparently being garble-girl wasn’t enough for me as I’ve ventured to a new low: poor conversationalist.

I’m not trying to suck when I talk to you, I swear! It’s effortless actually; because there’s this thing that happened to me when I had baby Dylan- I embarked on my very own big baby devolution. Sure I’m all adult on the outside, but internally, I’m singing itsy-bitsy-spider and noticing how blue today’s sky is. I’m sorry. I blame the kid. Months ago when I first began realizing my brain was becoming that of a toddlers, I accepted the new-found state of excitable clapping, mini-pancakes, and toy jacking my son because it came easy. It felt right. But you know what doesn’t feel right? Calling your boss’ headache an “owie,” or interrupting someone in the thick of a conversation to shout, “I see you!” at your son in an effort to discourage foreseeable funny business. As you were saying? 

These days my conversations are not only laced with my typical backwards speak, but they also include baby babble (Time for yum-yum!), offbeat comments (LOOK, A BIG TRUCK!), and frequent disruptions (Don’t hit Boog! Is that Nice?). So in advance, I’m sorry. Please understand that the constant exposure to overly enthusiastic children’s programming and all things toddler are getting the best of me. But there’s hope! As I continue to regress, Dylan continues to progress, and one day we’ll meet in the middle and adulthood will be restored.

Unless of course, this is just me returning to my natural state, in which case I’ll be forever young. And that’s kind of a win. Right?

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