My house is silent. It sounds wonderful!
Well, I guess it’s not exactly silent, the radio is playing and the cat is wandering around complaining, as usual, but there is no screaming, sick baby, nor is there any child demanding my attention. The Girl is out babysitting and The Baby and The Boy are asleep. I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated silence more.
It’s been a rough week. As soon as my husband left town, my world started falling apart. The van died, I got sick, then the baby got sick. I’ve had three nights in a row of The Baby waking up and wailing for two to three hours at a stretch. I think I’m averaging about three hours sleep since the Boy still insists on waking up early. This is the downside to multiple children, I can’t nap when the baby does.
It’s funny though, even with all that, now that I have silence, I was just sitting here thinking maybe it hasn’t been so bad. Don’t worry, I stopped and shook myself wondering what on earty I was thinking. After all, it was just a few hours ago that I was ready to cry from exhaustion and frustration. All day the feeling like I was never going to get a break has been overwhelming, yet here I sit, in a sense, forgetting just how tough has been. The selective memory of motherhood is truly astonishing. People talk about mothers forgetting the intensity of the pain of labour in order to do it again. I think our selective memory must extend beyond the delivery room. How else do we survive teething and tantrums and the teen years?
I’m choosing to savour this silence… even if it won’t last.