You may have heard the saying that talking to yourself is the first sign of madness.
Well if that’s true, I declare myself officially insane, as I’ve been talking to myself for years now. However I blame this disorder entirely on my two children. Before kids I was perfectly able to contain my thoughts within the four walls of my brain. Now, it seems I have to verbalise it all.
It definitely started with the kids. Ever since they were newborns I talked to them, even though it’s unlikely they knew what I was saying. I’d often verbalise what I was doing, to encourage their language development. To be honest I remember initially feeling like an complete idiot talking to a baby that just stared back at me. But over time, talking aloud about things has now become second nature.
Where do things stand today? Well the downside is I now have a bad habit of muttering day-to-day thoughts and actions aloud. On the flipside, both my kids were early talkers. (Just remember that when you think I’m a nutcase, boys.)
What’s worse is most of the time, I don’t give it a moment’s thought. I just go about my day chattering to myself like the madwoman that I clearly am.
But then, I have the occasional moment where I am embarrasingly reminded of my lunacy.
Here’s what happened this morning. Took the kids down to kinder (me pushing Mr.1, Mr.4 riding his bike). Dropped Mr.4 off to kinder, swung past the supermarket, round to the cafe to grab a coffee, then headed back up the hill home with Mr.1…carrying coffee in one hand and pushing about 30kg of kid, pram and groceries with the other. As you do.
(Perhaps am crazy, but a multi-tasking wonder.)
As I’m walking, Mr.1 is idly chatting to himself as he sees things: “fower”, “bee”, “car”, “twuck!” I always try to acknowledge what he says or repeat the word, especially as he’s learning to talk. So along with validating Mr.1’s words, I’m also muttering to myself “God this weighs a ton”, “nice lamp” (in store window), etc.
Then the inevitable happens. Mr.1 begins shifting around, saying “down, down” as he’s tired of being pushed and wants to walk. So now I’m responding to his words, verbalising some of my own thoughts and explaining to Mr.1 what we’re doing.
By this stage my verbal diarrhoea sounded something like this.. “C’mon, let’s get you home…yeah, a park!…I just want to finish my coffee…flowers, Ryan!…no, not stopping…can’t get down yet..”
Then from around the corner up ahead comes this rather attractive well-dressed man in a suit. I thought to myself, “oh OK yeah, not bad”. (Yes of course women look too. That was verified here) Now I may have even verbalised that, because by this late stage of my disorder I really don’t know what I say aloud and what I keep to myself anymore.
So, he comes walking down the hill and stares at me – you know, the whole giving me a look up-and-down thing, which personally I find a little off-putting. Especially when wearing no makeup and gym pants with a hole in them.
Despite this, I’m vaguely aware that I can still hear myself talking….to Mr.1, to me, to Mr.1, to me… But not really taking much notice of myself. Then the George Clooney lookalike man in the suit walks past and I swear I see the look on his face change from “having a perve” to “WTF?” just as he catches me mutter “not now!”
I was talking to Mr.1 of course…but suddenly it hit me: what must have suit-man thought — that I was whispering “not now!” to him, right as he walked past?!!
As a result this left me feeling suitably mortified and reminded of just how much a nutter I really am.
About 10 metres further up the hill though, I hear a familiar voice. “We’re almost home little man…beautiful window…only two more blocks..”
Oh yeah. That’d be me. Again.
Perhaps I should just embrace my insanity and wear one of these.
Because we’re all a little insane, aren’t we…aren’t we? Oh please, please tell me we are…