Hiccoughs, Lavender and a Verbose 12 Year-Old

I am already a fairly impatient person. Especially on Monday nights. That is my “night at home.” It is, in other words, my night as a single parent. So, despite weekly mental peptalks along the 2.5 mile drive home  ( I will be supportive, I will be calm, I will not check my email, I will make them laugh –a mantra repeated,) Monday afternoons are always a train wreck. Stress thins my already anemic patience and  hiccoughs make me downright irrational. So, tonight as my entire body is racked with involuntary jerk after involuntary jerk, my fuse is shortening by the nanosecond. Further, the hiccoughs are not entirely unexplainable. I am fairly certain they have to do with the third piece of Angel food cake I shoved into my face just before galloping up the steps to rescue Hadley from “my burning eyes Mama, my burning eyes!” It seems swallowing barely chewed Angel food cake while running and simultaneously cursing yourself for asking a five-year-old to wash her own hair is a guaranteed recipe for hiccoughs.

Distracted by my rhythmic jerking, I haphazardly asked “What’s that?” as I spotted a suspicious looking plant-like thing on the kitchen island.  I didn’t really want to know but, like the old knee jerk, visualizing the dried up branches stuck in a plastic cup of old play dough sent a firestorm of signals to my fried brain to ASK ASK ASK!  If only I could swallow that question as fast as I had that piece of  Angel food. Nope. Too late. Question was out. And, of course, Maisy had an answer.

They’re lavender branches that have been drying in my room for like three years except maybe not three years because I was nine then and I don’t think I had that furniture in my room then because didn’t you get that for me when we went to Arizona and I think I was ten then but anyway so Leah and I made perfume once and we thought that lavender would make a really cool perfume except we need special bottles because you can’t just put perfume in any bottle because it might smell like  the thing before it so do you think we could go to AC Moore and get a perfume bottle I am sure they are open because it’s only 28 days till Christmas–Can you believe it Mom? 28 days till Christmas? Mom? Mom?

No, honey, no I am not listening. I have, in the time you have been speaking, made our grocery list, gift list, vacation wish list, reorganized my kitchen pantry in my brain and decided I would make it a my life mission to  invent a cure for the hiccoughs.

 

 

Note: according the Oxford English Dictionary, “hiccough” and “hiccup” are both acceptable spellings for this word described in detail above.  This research was insisted upon by the very same 12 year-old above who not only talks a lot, but apparently knows a lot. 

 

Comments

  1. Shavaun McGinty says:

    Oh I am laughing. I too have a 12 year old daughter and you nailed it…The incessant little girl chatter…We’ll miss it when it’s gone.

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