“Please Stop Yelling,” I Yelled.

There is apparently an unwritten rule of parenting that you will spend a significant portion of your life telling children to stop screaming. Not because anything is wrong. Nobody is hurt. Nobody is angry. There is no emergency.

They’re just having a completely normal conversation at a volume appropriate for directing aircraft. While sitting directly next to each other.

“WHY ARE YOU YELLING? SHE IS LITERALLY RIGHT THERE.”

And obviously after saying this approximately 47 times at a reasonable volume, I eventually resort to yelling at them to stop yelling. Which feels productive.

Nothing really drives home your authority as a parent quite like screaming, “EVERYBODY STOP SCREAMING.”

But here’s what really gets me. They know how to be quiet. Oh, they absolutely know.

Because let one of them get four rooms away from me and suddenly we’re whispering.

“Mom?”

“What?”

murmurmurmur

“What?”

murmurmurmurmur

Nope. That’s your two.

I have always told my kids that if they want me to hear them, they need to use their big people voice. I will ask “what?” twice. After that, I am no longer straining myself trying to figure out what you’re saying. You have a voice. Use the big people version.

And somehow THEY get mad.

“You weren’t listening!”

Yes, I was. You apparently decided to communicate exclusively with mice.

There is also another option here that nobody seems particularly interested in.

Come closer.

Wild concept, I know.

Except even when they do come find me, somehow we still manage to mess this up. One of their favorite things to do is walk directly up to me and start a conversation.

“Hey Mom, so th…”

And then WALK AWAY. Still talking.

“…and then we…”

Further away.

“…mrmrmrmrm…”

Gone.

WHY ARE YOU LEAVING? YOU CAME TO ME.

I did not request this meeting. You approached me. You started the conversation. Why am I now expected to follow you through the house to hear the second half of a story I didn’t even know existed thirty seconds ago?

And later I’ll get, “Remember when I told you about that?”

No. I remember the trailer. You took the full movie down the hallway.

But perhaps my favorite is their impeccable timing. I can be standing in the same room with them for eight straight minutes. Nothing. Not a word. Apparently nobody has a single thought.

Then I turn on the vacuum.

“Mom, so today…”

Oh, come on.

Kid enters the chat that was never happening.

YOU HAD EIGHT MINUTES.

Eight whole minutes where I was right here. The room was quiet. I was available. We had ideal conversational conditions.

Nothing.

Vacuum comes on and suddenly you’ve got a podcast.

And I know exactly how this goes. I turn the vacuum off.

“What?”

They start talking. Okay.

Vacuum back on.

“AND ALSO…”

WHY DID YOU WAIT UNTIL I TURNED IT BACK ON?

At this point I’m starting to think the communication problems in this house may be intentional. Which is especially encouraging because I am constantly preaching about communication.

We need to communicate. Use your words. Tell people what you need. Listen when someone is talking to you. Use your big people voice.

And please stop screaming at someone who is sitting six inches away from you.

All very important lessons being taught by a woman who will inevitably end up somewhere in this house yelling, “STOP YELLING!”

The irony is not lost on me.

But apparently I’ve been put in charge of communications for a household where proximity means nothing, volume is selected at random, and turning on a loud appliance is the universal signal that Mom is now accepting questions.

So yes. Communication is very important in this family.

We’re terrible at it.

But it’s important.