Am I Repeating Myself?

Perhaps this would be a good slogan for a t-shirt for me to wear when I'm around my kids.

During a recent phone conversation with an elderly woman, we were finalizing some details for an outing, and as a segue from that topic, I asked, "So...how's your day?" Her response? "You, too," and she hung up. I chuckled to myself. Having a hearing impairment of my own, I immediately realized she thought I'd said, "So...have a good day," ending our conversation, if a bit abruptly. I hope I didn't unintentionally hurt her feelings.

It was kind of funny to me, and I was telling my daughter about the experience. We laughed about it, and then I said, "When I tell you this story next weekend, I hope I make you laugh again."

"I will try to forget it by then," Sierra said.

"Please do."

Could someone develop a Repetitive Anecdote Antidote children can administer to their aging parents, and send a supply to my kids? When I start to tell a story one of my kids has heard before, they will get a little gleam in their eye, and I can tell they are trying to suppress a smile. Dang it!  

With my own parents, I've heard repeated stories more than occasionally. I've learned it's just easier to nod in agreement, and supply any missing details as the story progresses, so we can move things along to a new topic. I'm hoping my own children will be that kind to me.

A few years ago, when I picked Bridger up (stop me if I've told this before; it's feeling all-too familiar), I sat quietly before I put the car in gear, and he looked at me, waiting.  

"I was just trying to remember the last time we were together, so I don't repeat myself," I told him.

"Don't worry about it, Mom. I'm used to it by now."

It's not that I'm TRYING to bore my children. I suppose I am uncomfortable with lulls in the conversation, and think something said is better than silence. Perhaps less IS more in those circumstances. Once we cover the weather, and catch up on the most recent occurrences of our lives, which hopefully are recent enough so as not to be a rehashing of a story already shared, I try to fill the gaps with some of my favorite stories.

It's one of the hazards of growing older, I suppose.  My children will learn compassion and patience during our conversations, so at least the experience is not a complete waste of their time. I would like to publicly apologize right here, right now, for all future offenses which are sure to occur.

To my children:  I AM SORRY FOR REPEATING MYSELF. Now get over it. That is all.

Hey, did I tell you about the time I picked up Bridger, and I sat quietly before putting the car in gear...