Sometimes, when I have writer’s block…

 

I caught her in a silent moment of thoughtful hairdressing on Audrey.

I’m having writer’s block this morning.  In fact, I’ve been suffering from “The Block” for about 3 days.  I have about 45 million things to say, and nothing seems to want to come out from my finger tips.  I start to type and it looks something like this…

“I got thinking the other day, wait is there something happening in the kids rooms, do I smell smoke? What am I making for dinner tomorrow? How many more sleeps until Friday and I can have a Coke?  What was I saying, it was important. Anybody know where the, hey that sounds like water dripping do I have a leak, I’m going to have to get boxes soon, Now they are actually fighting.  I should get up, hold on that was my phone, and wait that’s the other phone.  I wonder….would anybody miss me if I locked myself in the bathroom for a few hours? What was I saying???”

It doesn’t exactly make for coherent or entertaining blog fodder.  But it’s pretty much how my brain is rolling all the time.

I’m a fast talker, in my teenage years I’d phone my friends and leave a message on their answering machine (fact: Answering machines were machines you attached to your phone line.  They contained a miniature cassette tape, and should you not be home to answer the phone, your answering machine would, after a certain number of rings, answer the phone and allow a person to leave a recorded  message for you.  It’s the grandfather to voicemail.  While some may find this to be archaic technology you can still, in some stores purchase an answering machine.  Still confused, google it. End fact) and later,when they returned home they’d call me back.  No because they heard and understood my message, but rather because the message came out is such a blur, that they knew only one person could possibly out talk their answering machine – Ashley G.

I have over time, mostly time spent running a business back in my early twenties (*sob* in a few days I’ll officially be out of my early 20’s and into the late ones…after that comes 30 and we are NOT talking about 30 *gasp, sob*) learned to speak slowly and clearly on a message.  I repeat the necessary information twice in case you still didn’t catch it and for the most part my messages are understood and responded to appropriately.  This all goes down the crapper if I’m excited because then nothing slows me down.

In real life, I still tend to speed talk. I have so much to say, all the time, even if it’s not exactly coherent, that it spills forth from my mouth in a generally steady stream.  If you ask my opinion on something, please be prepared to receive it. I will do my best, to at all times employ tact and respect to the things I say, but should I be put into a position where I feel my family is threatened – physically or emotionally, where I feel misunderstood or where I just plain think you’re being an idiot and you make me angry, be prepared to feel my rapid fire wrath.  You can then also expect that I will apologize for anything said that was hurtful or unneccessary.  I don’t want to hurt feelings, ever.

Anyways, along with this internal blather, comes a lot of super great blog and conversation topics.  The problem is, they’re spinning around like a carousel on NOS in my brain and sometimes catching the full grander of their purpose is difficult.  Most days I can do it, these days not so much.

And if that weren’t enough, I am inadvertantly raising two little girls with the same over excited, chattering ability.  Bethany, some days, or most can talk a  blue streak.  She’ll talk in a continual stream, not adding punctuation or stopping to breathe until her lips are blue.  Then she’ll quickly inhale, exhale, inhale and start again.  Sometimes I’m pretty sure my ears start to smoke, both from all the information/questions and the speed and volume at which they are projected.  The other day on the way to Langley for a pretty great playdate, when I thought she’d be asleep, she was saying something like this…

Beth:”Mommy why did God make trains? Why did God make trees? Why did He make them green? Why is that guy going like that? Why aren’t you driving faster? Mommy you’re going to slow? Mom why did we stop? Why was there an accident? How come can’t you go around? Why is that guy stopped too? When are we going? Are we there yet? Will Tyler play with me? Is Lukas still a baby? Why aren’t you answering me? Why don’t you want me to ask any more questions? What, Mommy?”

Mommy:”Seriously kid, I don’t know.  And stop because Mommy’s brain hurts”

By the time we’d made the hour-long drive to Langley I seriously thought about hanging my head out the window, something like a family dog to drive, just to avoid the noise and the questions.  I also, felt like maybe one day I should apologize to my mother, can I can only imagine the number of times I made her ears burn. 

Then there’s little A, she’s learning to talk more and more each day.  I love the words she’s learning and the way she says them (post to come with video evidence) but sometimes I miss the days of little talk from her.  The other night, while being excessively overtired/hyper and reading bedtime stories, she “talked” straight through it, I’m talking real words and made up ones, in the same fashion her sister talks.  In spite of the fact that I asked her to stop, her Dad asked her to stop, her sister rolled her eyes (we’ll talk about that another day) and I even covered her mouth – she just kept going.  Right through our “thankful” portion of our evening and bedtime prayers.  I’ve never been so happy to give a kid their soother. Silence, ahhhh.

Corey couldn’t help but snicker, he knows where it comes from and where it doesn’t.  I rolled my eyes at him (ha!) and made sure he understood that he knew what he was getting into when he said “I do” and he just laughed.  At least, I never have to wonder, what they’re thinking and neither does he.

So, I guess that’s the end of my writer’s block.  I think it’s true what they say.  Once you start writing, the flow will come, and so will a post.  Even if it is a little scattered.

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One thought on “Sometimes, when I have writer’s block…

  1. don’t you wish, sometimes, that kids came with a “STOP” button? My son also talks a blue streak… on & on he goes, about this subject & then a hard left onto another subject… and so on & so on & so on… My husband & I look at each other & ask each other quietly… “where is the stop button!” & we push the air wildly, like, as if, we will somehow manage to find some magical stop button! And, like you, he also gets this talent of talking, from his Mamma… And by the way… he just turned 13, & he still talks a blue streak… it’s here to stay… But he’s my boy, & I wouldn’t change a thing! :o)

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