Am I speaking another language?

I haven't seen my high school transcripts in a while, but I'm fairly certain my Spanish grades aren't all that impressive. Could it be that once I had children I started speaking some strange language that only adults understand? There has to be some explaination as to why my kids don't understand or hear me...right? Surely they're just not listening {{GASP!}} ! Not my precious little angels!

Apparently mornings and late evenings are when my accent is the strongest. This morning while I was fixing Mia's hair I told Gracie...oh, I'd say AT LEAST 5 times...to put on her shoes. Yet, she completely ignored me and continued to play with Ella. When I was done with Mia, I called her over...her and her bare feet. Frustrated, I did her hair (because she has very difficult hair and hasn't mastered it herself, ok?) and then told her calmly (well, maybe not so calmly) to GET HER SHOES ON. She rolled her eyes and responded, "My shoes are slip ons! Geez!" Deep breaths, Kimberly. Deep breaths. Count to 10...better yet...count to 100. Breathe. Breathe. I quickly get Ella dressed and get her strapped in the car and tell Mia to head to the car, too and get her jacket on. Meanwhile, Gracie decides she doesn't want to wear those shoes, she wants to wear a pair of mine...which, naturally, she can't find. Ok...this house isn't that messy or that big. In fact, it's pretty clean and tiny! It shouldn't be that hard to find a pair of shoes! It's not like they were Barbie shoes lost in shag carpet!! There are only a few places they could be. She runs around like a maniac looking for them and can't find them anywhere. Anywhere? Really? Ok...so I admit, while I was picking up the other day, I might have picked them up and put them in my closet, but um...they're mine! (And honestly, I didn't remember doing it. So sue me.) The child spends 5 minutes looking for the dang shoes all the while passing over several different viable other options or bothering to look in my closet, where my shoes might be. I start looking and guess what! I found them in about 10 seconds. Meanwhile, it's 8:04am and the bell rings at 8:10am--and we live 10 minutes away (when I drive the speed limit). You do the math.

Finally, I get in the car to wait for her (who is still shoving papers in her backpack, which should have been done last night, and of course, dropping index cards that scatter everywhere). When I get in the car, where Ella and Mia have been waiting patiently, I find Mia sitting there, shivering...with no jacket on. She says, "I'm ffffrrrrrreeeeezing!!!" I took a deep breath and said (ok, I yelled it), "PUT YOUR JACKET ON!! I TOLD YOU TO PUT YOUR JACKET ON WHEN YOU GOT IN THE CAR!!! DOES ANYONE SPEAK ENGLISH AROUND HERE?!?!?!? AAGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!" Guess what. She put her jacket on, but not before she said, "Geez! You don't have to yell!"
But, apparently I do have to yell, because they just don't seem to hear or understand me. Why? Why? Why must I repeat myself several times? Why must I resort to yelling? Why? WHY?!?!?! Someone please tell me why!!!!!

I think I'll experiment today. When I pick them up from school I'm only going to speak in some weird language and see if they understand it. I once heard a story about someone going through a drive-thru and having to repeat their order several times until they finally mumbled it...and they got it. I bet it works...that or they'll give me that same look...you all know the look. The "OMGee, Mom you are so stupid," look.

Oh, yeah...I think they made it to class before the tardy bell at 8:15am. But only because I was a race car driver in my past life.