I am alone in the house. Let me say that again; I am. ALONE. In the house. I think the last time that happened my dear husband had taken the kids out shopping for Y2K supplies just in case the airplanes really were going to fall from the skies and all the ATMs burst into flame. My point? It’s been a long, long time.
Do you hear that? Right…Nothing. Oh, I miss the sound of nothing. In the mornings, I am home exactly until the last of our kids head off for school and don’t return until they have all made their way back from the hallowed halls of education, where they have used up all their ability to conduct themselves in a calm and quiet manner. Exhausted from the strain of NOT running in the halls and being forced to raise their hands to speak, they regress into a flock of shrieking, squabbling seagulls. At those times, our house sounds like the staging area for the Rose Bowl parade…if the bands were all warming up at the same time and several of the float participants were screaming that you were a stupid doody-head and you aren’t the mom, so they didn’t have to listen to you, so there! And I’m telling! Is mom home, yet? MOOOOOOM!
Even when they are in a good mood, they are loud. You know how sharks have to swim continuously, 24 hours a day, lest they drown? We’ve got a kid who MUST speak without stopping every blessed, waking minute. Maybe it’s because his body is so small that bottling all those words up inside would cause him to swell up like a blowfish and then explode. Or perhaps, he is a rare, mutated human who’s every movement is powered by the wind generated from the sheer volume of his speech. Whatever the case, he cannot be quiet, not for a minute. Not for thirty seconds. This morning I asked him to please, please be quiet just until I drank my first cup of coffee. He stood in front of me, not blinking, his eyes bugging out and started to jump up and down, up and down until I took pity on him and let him speak before he hurt himself. It came out in a whoosh; “momokayIknowthatwearebusysaturdaybutmaybezachsmomcantakemetothepartybutzachdoesn’tknowhisphonenumberiknowbecausehegaveittomeonceanditdidn’thaveenoughnumbersinit…” (huge intake of breath) “…. butmaybeicangivehimmynumberandhecouldcallmeIdon’tknowwhattodowhydoesn’theknowhisphonenumberanyways….”
You get the picture.
Now, you know that I love my family. And I know that I will miss the noisy, clanging, chaos of it all once they’re grown and gone. (So people tell me, anyway.) But quiet is important, too and hard to find. So this is a very special afternoon. This quiet, this nothing, will have to last me for quite a while. Shhhhhhh……..
Ah, lovely.
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