It's 7:30. The kids are in bed, banished there early because they were off their respective rockers today. I'm going to go ahead and blame it on the full moon. There has to be a reason - why else would kids act crazy??? (insert huge sarcasm here). Ted is not home. There is no TV on. The house is SILENT. It is magical. I thought this would be a lovely topic for my neglected blog. For those of you without kids, silence is a state grossly taken for granted. Like so many aspects of autonomous adulthood, silence is gone once you have kids. As babies, they cry. As toddlers, they whine. As preschoolers, they talk. Incessantly. I haven't reached the older stages yet, but suffice it to say that I find the noise one of the most galling things about parenthood. When my oldest was a year old, I was eager for him to talk. Now he doesn't STOP talking. He says many funny things, which definitely help offset the effect of the really obnoxious things that come out of his mouth. Then add in a 3 and a 2 year old, and then din is deafening. Sometimes the decibels aren't even that high, sometimes it's like a constant hum or buzz that you can't escape. You lose your ability to think, reason and make simple decisions when there is so much noise. And believe me, that has effects on your patience, your stamina, and your ability to cope.
It's gotten to the point where I would absolutely go on one of those silent retreats. I think I would have absolutely NO PROBLEM not talking for a couple of days. You know what? I'll go and then let you know how it is - because by the time I can probably go to one, they will be teenagers and won't be talking at all.
I don't mean to sully such a wonderful state with my negative talk about parenthood - minor complaints. I sit with my tea (had a little night out last night and maybe feeling the effects of the wine today) and I can think. I can write. I can browse Amazon. And I can read a book which I think I will do. Right now. In silence.