I have three amazing little girls. Each one a unique individual in their own right.
My oldest developed speech early or so I am told. She had complete sentances by a year and would follow my younger brother around the house demanding that her "Unce Etcher" give her a "cacker" By three she had a vocabulary that more often than not left me shaking my head.
"Mother, there is a situation with Madeline and the body lotion."
The kid had emptied an entire tube of Bath and Body Works body cream into her head.
My middle one was a little slower, though pretty standard when it come to speech. Her first sentence was "I la oo" on Christmas day at 18 months. Once she picked up on the whole talking thing she loved it. Thought we could only understand about 1/3 of what she said until she was nearly 4 that didn't stop her from a steady stream of communication. I once tried to count how many questions she could string of in succession and zoned out after question 30. Her last timed talking streak lasted 45 minutes with minimal response from any one around her.
My youngest is now two and gives her sisters a run for their money. What she lacks in vocabulary she makes of up for in volume and repletion.
It comes as no surprise to any one who knows my husband and I, that two of our kids are talkers. It am fairly certain if physically pains them refrain from joining a conversation.
For my middle daughter this means conversations often dissolve into her bouncing from one foot to the other, eyes roaming the room looking searching for something to talk about. She has a voice, and she wants to be heard, she just hasn't figure out what to say yet.
My youngest pulls the pretty typical two year old move of saying your name over and over and over until she has your attention, only to respond with a long drawn out "Ummmmmmmmmmmm" when you ask her what she needs.
And, while I waver between amusement and irritation and their constant interruptions, I find myself startled when I see so much of myself in them.
Not because I talk a lot, though the fact is I do, but in my writing.
I have a voice. I have a burning inside of me to tell story. I want to be heard. I want to be part of the conversation going on out there in the great big world. I want to add my own unique perspective and experiences.
I wonder if I have anything to say.
I come to this little space on the internet and shout "LOOK AT ME!" Only to have my thoughts drift away and I am left hoping from one foot to the other hoping to hold your attention until I have something worth sharing. This post alone has taken me over an hour to write because I keep roaming around, playing on my phone, looking at instagram, reading other blogs. Searching for something to say that might keep you here with me. That might hold your attention.
And I have said before that I never want blog simply for the sake of blogging, and that the internet is noisy enough with out me adding to the chaos.
I want to be like my oldest daughter. I want to write and share because I have something worth saying. I want to post because I have thought through my words and sorted them carefully and want to engage and connect.
But I am a young blogger and children some times ramble. Some times my children speak because they are still finding their voice. They may not have anything to say yet, but they want to know that when they do we will be there to listen.
Some times my words will have weight and depth and some times it is just me, leaning in close, wanting to connect.