I’ve heard of a thing called quiet, but I haven’t experienced it in a little over 8 years.

My parents came to visit today.  It’s always a quick visit, but it’s nice to see them.  I can understand why it’s always a short visit.  I’m pretty sure three hours is about the most they can take of my loud house.  I really do pity those who come to visit me.  At least those that have no kids….or only have one….or two….or three that don’t act like they are on crack.  Because it must be like some sort of torture.  I’m pretty sure the government could actually use my house as a means to get the enemy to talk.  Like sleep deprivation or something.  Just send the enemies to me and I’ll have them begging for mercy. 

I’m sitting across from my parents.  We’re maybe about a foot away from each other and we can barely hear each other because my kids are playing some “let’s see how long we can sit on each other before it hurts” about two rooms over in their playroom.  Then we see the oldest and youngest dragging my middle child by the feet across the room while they are all laughing.  Until they make an error getting him into the doorway and he gets smacked by the door frame.  He’s OK though.  He’s been through worse. 

Then there’s my sweet baby who comes sliding down the stairs on her tush screaming, “Wee!”  just like on the Geico commercial with the little pig.  And my youngest boy who decides to put his pants on his head and his shirt on as pants.  And my oldest who decides to see how many shirts he can put on under his regular shirt. 

It’s a real live circus at my house.  The funniest thing about it is that just a few years ago…about eight to be exact, I rolled my eyes at parents whose kids made noise in a restaurant.  I thought kids that made noise were spoiled and needed parents that could control their children.  But then I became a mom.  I don’t want kids that are quiet all the time.  I want them to enjoy being a kid.  It goes too fast any way.  Let’s scream and yell and play like there is no tomorrow.  One day my house will be quiet.  Those sweet loud children will have grown up and had sweet loud children of their own.  And I’ll reminisce about my loud torture chamber of a house and I’ll realize it was pure bliss.


One response to “I’ve heard of a thing called quiet, but I haven’t experienced it in a little over 8 years.


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