I love my kids. Like crazy. To distraction.
But sometimes their sound is like nails on a chalkboard in my soul. It is just so loud. And before you tell me to teach my kids not to yell, I’m not talking about them yelling. Just talking, running around, playing. It just gets loud. And can shock my system.
Some days, it is my own fault. If I forget to take my morning meds, things are worse.
But other days I do take them. And it is rough anyway.
I am an only child. My house, growing up, was not filled with noise. I went to small schools, the classes weren’t that large. There just wasn’t a lot of noise. And I liked it that way.
Typically, when just Patrice and I are home, it is pretty quiet and mellow. And, Praise the Lord, she still naps, which helps.
But we’ve had days off school, snow days and sickie days lately. And the noise can push me to the edge of madness.
I remind myself that noise is my kids. Mine. And that helps. It does. But it isn’t a mute button.
I spend more time than I wish telling the girls to quiet down, not run so much. And fighting the urge to turn on the manageable noise of the television. I am proud to say, the girls haven’t watched any tv today. I have dealt with it as much as possible by closing doors, dividing and conquering, and just gritting my teeth.
But I tell you what, the older two are going back to school tomorrow!!!
