Ahhh, my brain is swiss cheese. I have so many things I want to blog about but unless I get a dictaphone and take it to bed with me while my brain runs itself weary, I will never remember what they all are.
Most days I can't even hear myself think. My thoughts are rather quiet, unobtrusively polite voices and they stand no chance of making themselves heard over my two year olds constant flow of questions, endless chatter, yells, screams and commentaries. No chance.
This is me: "What?" (expression of bemused anxiety)
This is him: "Mommy, mommy, mommy! Why is it wet outside? Why is Owen sitting there? Why is that sound loud? Where is daddy? I miss him. Let's go for car ride! I'm very tirsty. Why? Why? Why? How come? I hungy. I love you too, Mommy. I want my someting else. I want cartooons. I no like this. Look at me! I want my clippers. Dat's very yucky. Mommy, you close your eyes.... Tah dah! Show you something! I want wonder pets on puter! Noooow! Watch me, Mommy! Mommy, mommy, mommy!"
This is Owen: "Daadadadadada-bababa-dabadaba! EEeeeeeeeeeek! (crying) Squaawk! (raspberries) Goooooo-badabababa-dadadadadad"
Quite a symphony. So after each day is "done" (I use this term loosely since I am always on duty), I will sit and read or watch TV and think, "oh, how peaceful". During this peaceful time the dishwasher will be running, the cuckoo clock will be ticking away, the washing machine will be starting it's spin cycle and the baby monitor will be the background "shooshing" noise to it all. Then my husband will say "God, that clock is distracting!" or "Can't you turn that monitor down?". Are you kidding me? What does peace mean to each individual, really? This racket qualifies as pretty damn quiet if you ask me.
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1 comment:
Word to the momma.
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