So I sit here staring at the wall. I can hear the birds. I can hear the washer washing my dirty diapers. And boy are there a lot of diapers to wash. Every other day a full load. I forgot how many diapers you change with a newbie. I can hear car doors slamming, my dogs collar jangling, and the ocean sounds from Owl's sound machine. So quiet.
You would think I would be productive in this time. My kitchen is a mess. I have two baskets of laundry folded to be put away. You know before Destructo dumps them out and I have to fold them again. Heck my garden could desparately use weeding. But it is silent. I like silence.
I think the quiet moments are what I miss most about the child free life. Maybe the only thing other than peeing alone and the ease with which you can leave the house that I truly miss. I know hear airplanes from the local air show flying overhead and mowers mowing the house across the road's lawn. But the quietness is my downfall. My bed starts beckoning for a power nap when the house gets quiet. And my hubby wonders why I don't get anything done. I guess it is because it is the one time of day I can think. This is also the reason I stay up until 11 or later and need said power nap.
But as much as I enjoy the silence, the sounds that fill the rest of the days are worth it (most days haha.) Destructo laughing, teasing my hubby, singing songs (with half the words incorrect.) Owl giggling, babbling to anyone who cares to glance his way. The noise that comes from the toy on the bouncy seat. It plays a song. So annoying but awesome because my baby can pull the toy and make it make that sound and that means he is developing on time.
The swing plays fake bird sounds as the mobile turns. I love it because it makes Owl so incredibly happy to look at that mobile and isn't that what we all want for our kids? Happiness? Even if some days hearing the stupid fake birds chirp makes me crazy.
There is always fire truck noises here whether from a toy or from a little boy. I think he is nearly as loud as an actual fire truck. It is so obnoxious. But on the other hand, maybe I should just be thankful that my little boy is passionate about things. Because being passionate about things is a great trait to have when you grow up.
Even the sound that I dread. That of a child waking me from my sleep to help them, feed them, comfort them. You know what? They are only going to be this young once. They are only going to need me this much once. I will never be this needed again. I will never be this loved. And that is what keeps me going on the days when the noise is deafening not only physically but also mentally. My children will never be this young again.
