Shut Y’er Pie Hole

by Lisa Donovan

I don’t know when, or how, I will learn that saying less is better.  I am entirely too much at ease with saying exactly what I think.  I feel like I am respectful of others, probably to a fault.  But I am realizing, as I approach my twenty-ninth year on this planet, a very hard truth:  I talk too much.

I feel like I blew it today, thanks to my mouth and my “opinions”.  Damn them.  It is like they have a life of their own.  Most people can be the listener and the advice taker - me, I have to be the talker, the jabbity-jabber.  GAWD!  I am so mad at myself.

I am talking to the best school in Nashville about getting my son in for next year.  We have just had to admit that (at the risk of sounding like every other parent under the sun) our son is, maybe not so much “gifted”, as he is complex.  He is just not hangin’ in at the public school.  He is bored and, quite frankly, has already figured out the teacher’s m.o. for the year and is ready to conquer it.  I don’t want to see him tread down a path of boredom and destruction so I am looking around to see what our options are for getting him into a school where, hopefully, the other kids will be as “complex” and gifted and he very well might be “average” (oooooh, how sweet that sounds..). 

But, thanks to my gift of gab, I talked the women’s ear off.  I did listen.  I did.  But, I also disagreed with her on some points and, apparently, I should have just nodded and smiled.  Now that I think about it, I didn’t talk too much, I just said too much.  There’s a difference in that… Ok. Wow. So, the truth is this: I don’t talk too much, I just can’t disagree with someone and not speak up.  That’s my real problem.  There I admitted it.  I can’t keep my damned opinions to myself even if my son’s future academic state depends on it.  What is the matter with me!?!?  For pete’s sake.  This is nuts. 

Thank goodness we have one more shot for me to make an impression.  We have a tour next week of the school.  My husband will be there so maybe, just maybe, I will let him take the lead and cool my jets.  God.  I don’t know if I can do it.  Just the thought is making me twitchy.  No.  I’ll find a higher power.  I’ll wear a rubber band around my wrist and whenever I feel my loud mouthed opinionated self rearing up, I’ll just snap my wrist.  I have a feeling that I won’t end up with anything but a bloody wrist, though.  Geesh.  I’m hopeless.  A lost cause.. What will I do??

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This entry was posted on Thursday, August 31st, 2006 at 2:54 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.

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