If I Made Mistakes, I’m Sorry. Just Tell Me.

Dear !@$!# Baby,

At your last doctor visit in January, we were told to schedule an appointment if you weren’t saying any true words by May or so. Well, buddy, we are mostly through April and you still don’t speak.

You communicate, for sure. You know and use the signs for eat, more, please, nap and poop. You can make the sounds of cars, trains (even though it sounds like a monkey), helicopters, airplanes and vacuums. You imitate dogs, cats, monkeys (even though it sounds like a train), birds, seals, ducks, lions, sheep, mice and bears. You know your head, ears, eyes, hair, chin, cheeks, mouth, nose, eyes, elbows, hands, knees, feet, fingers, hands, toes, belly and butt. You know what the five senses are. You can imitate snoring. You know when to clap your hands, stomp your feet or smile when a song tells you to. 

Clearly, you can learn. Clearly, you can hear. Clearly, you can be a smart cookie. Seriously.

But cookie, in your world, is a very enunciated “DaDa”. Not to be confused with the Dad version of Dada, which is quicker and with softer d’s. Also not to be confused with what I think is your version of “that” which is a very quick “Da!”. Ba is book, boat or ball. Baba is bubble, baba ba is bubble bath, and I am for whatever reason “fafa” when asked. Unless you’re exceptionally whiny and then I get an exceptionally whiny maaamaaaaaa. I am seriously thankful you seem to have abandoned (for the most part) the continuous grunts that drove me absolutely batshit.

I see kids your age and younger not only speaking, but pairing words and using phrases. I know every kid is different and I shouldn’t compare, but it’s sort of impossible not to. And a lot of the time, I don’t wonder what’s wrong with you but what I may have done.

So if I somehow stunted your development, I’m sorry. If I didn’t talk to you enough in the earliest of days because I didn’t know what to say, I’m sorry. If we didn’t socialize you early enough, I’m sorry. If it’s because you didn’t have to go to daycare and that type of environment, I’m sorry – but that’s actually Dad’s fault, he said I didn’t have to go back to work. If it’s because we didn’t go to Gymboree-type classes, I’m not sorry because that shit is expensive and you lock up or limp noodle (and sometimes, somehow, BOTH AT ONCE) every time I try to move your limbs for you and just no. That wouldn’t have worked out for anyone. 

If my own issues last year kept us a little isolated, I’m sorry. I know there were a lot of days we just stayed at home because I just didn’t want to face the world and I have to apologize to both of us for that. 

If I should have been reading to you constantly instead of only four times a day, I’m sorry. If it’s because you introduced you to TV and let you watch it, I’m sorry. If it’s because we listen to Tom Petty and Eminem and Avenged Sevenfold in the car instead of Raffi, I’m sorry. If it’s because I didn’t sing to you much, I’m not sorry because I’m tone deaf and you’re still better for not having to be exposed to that.

If it’s that repetition cheese grates my nerves after ten rounds, I’m sorry. My patience just can’t handle more than “dog. dog. dog. dog. dog. dog. dog. dog. dog. dog. #%!%ing DOG!”.  

If it’s that we had no idea what we were doing and we should have gone to more baby classes, I’m sorry. If some days I let you run around and scream or make truck noises because it’s easier than trying to entertain you, I’m sorry.

I’m not going to entirely blame myself because nature is a bitch and growth differs among children, I get that. But if I did ANYTHING over the last 22 months that somehow derailed you or led you on a different course, I really am sorry. I didn’t know.

You’re the first kid. I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m not quite sure I ever will. I do know that there have been times where I thought you were “broken”. I know you aren’t broken. You are smart, you are sweet, you are a destructive, energetic little boy. I know as soon as you start talking it’s all just going to spill out like a kicked over bottle of beer and I’ll be willing you to STFU but I don’t care. I want to HEAR what you want to say, rather than guess it. I want you to TELL me what you want instead of pointing to everything. I want you to chat with me in the car instead of making car sounds because I am, in fact, driving. I want you to not get irritated at me when I try to get you to talk and TRY instead of just giving up whatever it was you wanted and walking away.

I want you to say that you love me instead of making kissy noises in the dark as I leave the room. Although that is pretty much the sweetest thing ever, so after you say you love me once you can go back to blowing kisses if that’s what you prefer.

Just, you know, say something. Say anything, John Cusack, I don’t !#%!#ing care. SAY ANYTHING. You can say, “Look mom, back the F up, I can talk but I just don’t want to right now.” That’s cool. Just show me you can and I’ll back off.




11 thoughts on “If I Made Mistakes, I’m Sorry. Just Tell Me.

  1. Hugs mama! Don’t be too hard on yourself. I have a 3yo who can’t talk as well as other kids her age. Like you, I also had to learn how to really listen to her to understand what she’s saying. She can speak a few words but the rest sounds weird to others. Food is Ba. She points to herself and says YOU. She can’t say the letter L. These, among many other things. But I trust that in time she will learn to speak well and if not, I’m pretty sure I would have mastered her language by then.
    The fact that you worry shows you care for her so much. And you are doing great.

  2. You’re doing fine, I’m sure. Every child is different and they all learn at their own pace. He will be speaking in no time, and chatting your ears off. Don’t be so hard on yourself. We’re all faking our way through this.

  3. Yes, god *hug* this was hard to read because I want scream STOP BEING SO HARD ON YOURSELF!! Let him BE HIM! He will hit those communication milestones. At his own time. Every kid is different is a cliche. Because it’s true!! Don’t compare and don’t apologize for everything you’ve done this far … It hurts my mommy heart to read a blog like this. Your frustration is palpable. Hang in there, ok? You’re so witty and clever, he will follow in your footsteps lady. He is just in awe of having such an awesome mom he’s speechless 🙂 but not forever.

  4. So, Squatch still mostly talks like this, too. Either you’ve got nothing to worry about with Little A, or I’m a shitty parent for not worrying more about Squatch’s speech development.

    I’m sticking with the former, because we’re awesome, and awesome only makes awesome.

    • HAHA so either we are both fantastic OR we’re both the worst. Makes sense. I’m with you, let’s be awesome. Glad to know Squatch is at the same sort of level – I love that I have blogging buddies with kids close in age. Like, STUPID CLOSE in age. 😉

    • Yet again, these boys are all the same. Not a damn word over here either, except for two months ago when I was leaving for work and he looked right at me and said “bye bye!” Never since, of course. Just the once. Kids are such jerks.

      • What blogs are they all reading together to learn how to be such jerks?! Glad to know that you’re going through the same thing. It sucks that we live on opposite coasts. We could have the boys get together, play with wheels and not talk. And we could talk over happy hour. 😉

  5. Joanna says:

    Doesn’t sound like you’re doing anything wrong.

    I agree with the statement that we’re all winging it. I just had a conversation with Birdie this morning while I was changing Twinkle’s diaper, that most of what I know about babies, I learned from raising her.

    That said, make the appointment. While he may just be ambling on his own schedule, if it turns out that a bit of early intervention will help him along, then it’s better to get the resources set up before he ages out of eligibility.

    • Now that my insurance has been straightened back out…going to set up the appointment today! I didn’t even think about the possibility of being aged out. Even if nothing comes from it, a little peace of mind can go a long way here!

  6. HUGS. Definitely make an appointment to check it out, but I think he’s just being him. I am new follower and I can’t imagine how frustrating, scary, and sad it makes you feel right now – though your post is beautifully written! I hope things are going to work themselves out! I don’t think you are doing anything wrong, and I am sure he’s just taking his time. Hang in there, Mama.

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