Peter lived in a noisy house. The bed creaked, the floor squeaked, the leaves fell on the roof. It was too much noise for him. Until, of course, he added half a dozen animals to the mix. A couple of weeks of that set him straight and once he let the animals go, the creakiness and squeakiness seemed so quiet.
After weeks and weeks of too much “noise” in my life, in my brain, it’s starting too feel a little quieter. Whether that is because one or two of the animals has stepped out or if it’s simply because I’ve gotten used to the chaos and have managed to organize it a little better, I’m not yet sure. Either way, I’ll take it.
I’ll take the slower mornings and the chance to run 8 miles if I want to, the opportunity to spend a couple of days writing a post rather than having to get it done in a couple of hours, the chance to stay after school to see all the new tricks Manchild is learning on the monkey bars. It feels good to be able to say, “I can finish this tomorrow,” and go to bed at a reasonable hour, to spend naptime playing “Rivers Roads and Rails” with Squish and without guilt, and to know that we’re not going to be rushed for time to pickup Manchild before dismissal.
It may not be truly quiet over here, but at least I can hear myself think.
This week on Babble: