We Made Noise

The Culprits:




Today, what the kids made was NOISE.

It blows me away. Every night. Are other households this loud? I cannot imagine.

I encourage our kids to express themselves freely - maybe too much. It has to be balanced out with some control, and I'm not very good at intuiting that dividing line. For example, Will is a great whistler. He's been doing it since he was three or four. But, he REALLY loves to whistle, and often REALLY loudly. We've set limits - like no whistling at the dinner table, in closed up spaces like the car, in restaurants - but I hate to tell him to stop or to be quieter.

Anyway, in addition to loud whistling, here are the sounds that bombarded me one evening as I tried to make a simple dinner:

John is in my arms, or on my back, squaking at best, crying at worst.

Everyone surrounds me to get John's attention. Clara snorts like a pig; Will claps loudly and shouts "Surprise!"; June skips in circles around me and shouts, "Skippy hoppy!" I am not sure what trigger in their brains says "shout super loudly and make pig sounds - that will make him feel really peaceful." Again, I'm holding him, so the John show is actually in MY face. When I put him down, then he really screams, and I just want to get dinner on the table - fast - to end this phase in our night, so the noises gather around me like flies.

Clara somehow feels wronged so she throws a tantrum, shouting "I want to get adopted from this house!" or "Know what I'm going to start calling you? A stinky mother. You are a very very very stinky mother!"

The other kids then disperse. The outside door slams shut numerous times, then pops back open, so I'm shouting, "Somebody close the door!"

June is still tugging on John (in my arms) shouting, "I want to touch baby!"

The rattling hoola hoop goes round and around. (Why did I buy one that makes sounds?)

Someone is banging on the piano.

June keeps singing "Skippy Hoppy" as she dances all over the house.

Everyone is shouting "WATCH, MOM" at the same time, every two minutes, over some gymnastic move on the couch. Then June directs me to move John so HE can watch her, every two minutes.

Clara is constantly asking me, "What did June say? What did Will say?" She fancies me her translator.

Will is making robot sounds, loudly.

Will is singing, loudly.

Will is whistling, loudly.

Will is dribbling a ball all over the house, loudly.

Clara and June are wrestling and then giggling, loudly, and then fighting, loudly.

June is screaming "Owweeeee!"

Clara and June are making something in the kid kitchen and the pans are rattling and falling and crashing everywhere.

John is shaking a rattle on my head.

Then, for a brief reprieve, they all go into the bathroom with Will. I don't know what Will offers them, but Clara and June always join him for his afternoon 30 minutes. Thank God. I bounce John to sleep and down some girl scout cookies for relief. The elder three are still loud, echoing in the bathroom, but at least they're far away. Then, I hear a constant clink of the metal toilet paper holder dropping on the ground. Whatever. Then, June comes in smiling and asks for a plastic bag. Fine. I'm not even going to ask. Then, all too soon, they parade back in, ready for dinner. June hands me the plastic bag wrapped up in TP. Oh, gross! They dropped the holder in the toilet. And they're all in here smiling ready to eat. After my peaceful reprieve, all I can say is, "Did you wash your hands?" Of course, the answer is no.

Sometimes I think I had children to fill up spaces. I've heard people say that when their kids grow up and leave home, the thing they miss most is the sound that fills the house. I see no need to get too sentimental about the list above. I happened to glance at a Thomas Moore book today. In a chapter titled, Noise and Silence, he says, "Silence is a requisite for personal divination, for living with a sense of direction." Well, that explains it!

I will miss individual sounds, like little feet running to our room in the morning (when it's a respectable hour), or the gentle stream-of-conscious singing, or the baby babble. But, the cacophony between the hours of 4 and 6? Just get me through it!