Life has taken quite a turn since I became a parent. Just recently, a friend of mine, Emily, rushed up to me during a gathering, asked me a question, and then dashed off to wrangle her lively toddler. She was concerned that her abrupt exit might have come off as impolite. I found myself pondering… wait, what was the question she asked? Did I even respond?
You see, I also have a two-year-old, who I affectionately call my giant CB—short for “CONVERSATION BLOCKER.” Honestly, I can’t recall the last time I managed to hold a complete dialogue or finish a sentence with someone in the presence of my little one. I suspect that several friends have started to think I either have a serious case of undiagnosed adult ADD or that I’m perpetually on the brink of a mini stroke. Completing a thought? Forget it. I often repeat myself, walk away mid-sentence, or return to find the person I was speaking with has vanished, likely out of sheer frustration.
If it’s not jotted down in enormous letters, blinking with neon lights, and plastered on my forehead, it’s as good as forgotten. So, it seems an apology is in order.
Dear (insert name here),
I sincerely apologize for the times we tried to connect. I’m truly sorry that while you were sharing one of the most significant moments of your day, week, or year, my two-year-old decided it was the ideal moment to announce his “massive poop” to everyone within a 280-mile radius.
I regret that during our serious discussions about real estate, politics, family, or even your exciting new wine recommendations (do you have some with you now?!), my little one was yelling “Mommy!” at full volume, making it impossible for either of us to focus.
I apologize for the moments when you were sharing life updates while my toddler was asking for a snack as if I hadn’t fed him in days. By the time I managed to get him that snack, I’d completely forgotten what we were discussing, and we both had to wave the white flag in defeat, resigning ourselves to the fact that our conversation had been locked away in a vault that only toddlers hold the key to.
I’m sorry that the friend, sister, or cousin you used to chat with without distractions now feels like trying to converse with a puppy on a sugar rush who just spotted a squirrel.
Please understand this is not a reflection of how I feel about you. This is just me… oh no, my kid is throwing sand at another child, wait, he’s under water, how is he already climbing the playground? Hey, put that rock down! What are you munching on? Is it actually food?! Okay, where was I? And THIS is exactly what I mean.
Just know that I miss you, and I promise that when my child turns 33, we will finally have the chance to catch up on all the amazing things happening in your life. Until then, it’s going to be a wild ride. I guess I’ll see you in 30 years because for now, I’ve surrendered to the toddler chaos.
Warmest apologies,
Me
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In conclusion, navigating conversations while raising a toddler is an adventure that often leads to humorous chaos and heartfelt apologies. I truly hope this resonates with fellow parents who find themselves in similar situations.