Moments of Quiet

April 21, 2009

This is what I miss most from my life “before kids.” Not to say that I miss that life, but I find myself longing for the quiet I once had. No one told me how loud life becomes with three children, or if they did I wasn’t listening, so consumed with the idea of my new family, of becoming a mother, having my own baby. You think I would have known better, being the eldest of four children, but it’s different now. I can’t just go into my bedroom and close the door to the noise. Those kids just seem to follow me everywhere I go, and with them comes a circle of noise.

Okay, the noise isn’t necessarily bad… giggles, new words, figuring out how to read, spell, questions that are never ending and often difficult to answer, singing… but then there is the crying, the demands of “I want,” “I’m hungry,” “I need,” and the screams from falling down, being hit, or arguing. It just fills the house and my head. So I long for moments of quiet from my past.

The library at UC Santa Cruz where I could go study for hours without hearing another voice, it was peaceful, silent, and I was totally alone. My classroom early in the morning before the chatter of high schoolers filled the room. It was like the quiet before the storm and I loved it. Alone on the beach without a wagon full of toys, toddlers to worry about drowning or running off; just a book and a towel and myself.

Now even the quiet part of my day (after 8 pm when Evan is done playing, talking, or yelling in his crib and is the last to fall asleep), there still is noise. It’s the list of things I need to get done that keep running through my head. Dishes calling to me from the sink, laundry waiting to be folded and put away, the phone calls that need to be returned, and all the things I meant to finish that somehow didn’t get done.

But for now this is my life. I’m sure one day I’ll miss all the noise that surrounds me, but today I miss the quiet. It’s partly why I’m writing this blog. It helps me to be alone with my thoughts (even if there are two children in my lap and a baby crying in his crib, protesting his nap). I guess it keeps me a little saner. A meditation that works for me.

Wishing you a moment or two of quiet,
Laura