Skip to main content

The Dreaded Mumble

My father has always accused me and one of my sisters (to protect her identity, I won't say which one) of mumbling. I think that both of us used to respond to this criticism with a "Daa-aad! I don't mumble!" but over the course of time I have come to accept the fact that I really can be a mumbler. I am trying to overcome this deficit, not least because I get irritated when I'm asked to repeat myself. (Maybe I just don't like speaking out loud in general.)

At any rate, I seem to have passed the mumbler gene along to my oldest daughter. Lately she is mostly incomprehensible. Last night I asked her how school had been and the answer was: "We mumble mumble gym mumble marble mumble mumble and then mumble mumble celebrate mumble mumble mumble with a mumble party."

"Huh?" I said, and got an exasperated "Mommy!" in reply. At least that came out loud and clear.




Recently read:

The Stolen Child by Keith Donohue. This was an odd book, both in subject matter (changelines, faeries) and in writing style. I liked the story but something about the way the guy wrote bored me intensely.

Pretty Little Mistakes by Heather McElhatton. Remember the Choose Your Own Adventure books? How I loved them when I was ten! This is a Choose Your Own Adventure book for grownups and I was all prepared to love it as well. However, although the writing is great, I got a bit bored with it after only a few adventures. And it's incredibly long so in order to go through all the adventures you have to reread pieces of it, and remember which choices you've already made, and then go back to page 54 and choose the second choice instead and...I got kind of tired just thinking about the work it would take to actually read every page and I quit. I guess I'm officially not ten anymore. If the author ever writes a more traditional book I'm there, because she is very funny. (This line made me laugh out loud: "Why was life so hard? It struck you as an excellent question." Okay, not so funny out of context. I seem to have written an awful lot about this book which I didn't even finish.

Abundance, a novel of Marie Antoinette by Sena Jeter Naslund. Am now infessed (tm Rhett) with Marie Antoinette.

Comments

Anonymous said…
I reallt think that both you and your mumbling sister got the gene from your dad! He tends to mumble also, especially on the phone!

Mom
Anonymous said…
I really don't know what you both are talking about. I mumble mumble excellent mumble talking.

As in the words of Willy Wonka (aka Johnny Depp): Mumbler!!
aimee said…
Yes, my other mumbling sister realizes, finally, that she has a problem too because she always has to repeat herself to her children. She, too, is working on it. I think one or both of her kids are going to be mumblers as well. And yes, she realizes that she got it from Dad.
aimee said…
Do you think I tricked anyone? :)
H Noble said…
Not for a second Aimee! ;)
Holly

Popular posts from this blog

Sleep tight

For the past week, and for the first time in their lives, my children have been falling asleep without me in the room with them.

My children are seven-and-a-half and almost four, so I wouldn’t take it amiss if you were to say that this has been a long time coming.

Here’s the thing. Chris snores, which is not his fault, and I am a super-sensitive princess type who cannot handle any kind of noise whilst I try to sleep. So when we moved into our current house I started sleeping in the guest room. Around that time, Mallory, who was about seven months old, suddenly decided to stop sleeping through the night, or to let me return her to her crib after a period of rocking or nursing, so the easiest thing to do – since I had to be up early to get to work – was to just bring her in the guest bed with me. And eventually she stopped sleeping in her crib altogether, and subsequently also rejected the toddler bed we bought as a replacement, so it was the guest bed (the geen bed, she called it, becaus…

Rocko Bama for President!

I was explaining to Mallory the other night that we'll be electing a new president soon, and then told her who my particular favorite was. She was intrigued by his name and kept asking me to pronounce it; then she asked if the other people who wanted to be president were "bad guys." I said, "Yes! They're evil, evil I tell you!" No, I actually said, "No, they're not bad guys, and one is actually a woman, they just have ideas that I disagree with."

Last night the phone rang and Mallory ran to answer it. She listened for a minute and then her eyes got really wide. "Mommy, you gotta hear this!" she said, bringing me the receiver. I listened; it was a robo-call from my candidate, in his own voice, encouraging me to vote in our upcoming primary. "Do you know who that was?" I asked Mallory.

"It was Rocko Bama!" she said excitedly.

Close enough.



And, just to drive home the point that my daughter is no master of elocution, la…

Somebody stop me

Because I have all the time in the world and unlimited patience, I want to make this:


The flowery one on top, not the stripy one on the bottom. Even though I've never crocheted anything larger than a scarf, and I only made the scarf this weekend, and before that I'd never crocheted anything larger than a cell phone case. Even though this afghan is made of two-hundred and twelve separate blocks that would have to be stitched together, and my least favorite thing about crocheting is stitching pieces together. Even though I don't need another blanket in my house, I have plenty. Even though I'm afraid I'm going to become a crazy crochet lady who keeps making things that nobody needs and foisting them on people. Here, have a scarf! Have an afghan! Have some booties! People will tire of me.

If I'm going to make an afghan, having never made one before, it would be smart to start with something easier:


or at least with something smaller:


But what if I hate the whole pr…