We lay in bed. Both
spent from the day. Arms draped over our
heads. And someone says it. Someone dares to say it out loud. It echoes in the dark room, in our
heads. “Where is the baby’s
monitor?” It is ALWAYS downstairs. And someone ALWAYS has to get it. Every night.
You would think we would learn.
You would think we would bring the thing upstairs when we go off to bed. But, no…we ALWAYS forget to.
Almost like the recycling.
“Is tomorrow recycles?” Another
Tuesday night banter sesh…
And then he gets up and trudges downstairs. Trudge, trudge, trudge. I hear the door open and close. The wheels of the recycling can grumbling
along the driveway. A far off noise of
unrest.
Yes, tomorrow is plastics.
Yes, of course it is. Of course
it is borough wide recycling tomorrow. I
get up and sneak a glance at all the cans lined along the curbs. Why is ours always last?
I’m watching those mannequin challenges online and I’m
laughing because we have played this game for years. You know, the baby cries and everyone stays
as still as can be. Mannequin-like. We OWN that game. Who will be the one to break the
stillness? The one eye is open. We take a peek at the clock. Who will give in?
Not me.
Not him.
And then someone gets up fast and throws the blanket off as
dramatic as can be. Whish. They lost.
Whoever it is. They (him or me)
stomp down the hallway. STOMP! And they go and rock the baby. At this point and with three children, the
game is completely and utterly TIED. We
have done our fair share of rocking and rocking and rocking…….
Domestic Bliss.
We all get to a point where we live in our routines and it
is hard to break out.
“Click, click, click.”
I hear him setting his alarm for 4:45 am.
“KLONK!” the sound of my stroller opening up too quick as I
go to pick up the girls from school.
“BUZZZZZZZZZZ” I hear
him making a protein shake before he leaves for work and the door closes, but
not tight enough and some days I go down to shut it tight and lock it.
These are the sounds of our lives. And they are completely routine. When we have children and we “grow up,”
(notice the quotes), we must play adults.
It kind of stinks. Sometimes I
see people going somewhere easily and I think to myself. How nice?!
I see young people on Instagram just having fun. For us adults with kids, it is hard to kind
of get up and just go. Everything
changes. We cannot fly by the seat of
our pants. Things have to be planned in
advance, with enough notice. And if it
isn’t ON the calendar, it doesn’t exist.
“SQUEAK,” the sound of my marker on the board.
Dance, 3:45
Birthday party 4:30-6:30
ADULTING IS NOT EASY!!!!
But, it is ok.
Because I also hear the laughter behind the door of my two
older children playing Barbie’s before bed.
Heeeheeeheee.
“Hi mama,” my little one says when she does ANYTHING. “DADA, DADA, DADA,” she sings when she hears
the train whistle.
“HI GIRLS,” he brightly says as he walks in the door from a
long day, even when it isn’t a good one.
His voice always rings with happiness.
And right now, I tear up thinking about how hard that might be for him,
some days.
These are also the sounds of our lives.
And as the recycling truck comes down the street and our can
lines the curb just like the others; I wonder if they know that the sound of
their truck does not overshadow the blissful sounds in our hearts.
