With three highly verbal and volume-control impaired children in this house, quiet is a rare commodity. If the kids are home, it's always an aural assault, which can be interesting depending on whose day it is to find such loud exuberance a sensory overload. Most of the time, I completely tune it out, no problem at all, but sometimes it's so overwhelming that I clap my hands over my ears and run for Dodge (okay, I really run for the bedroom, but still...).
I wouldn't really change this excited, eager, loud, busy chatter between the three kids because in many ways it's miraculous to hear them engaged with each other, the best of friends, all three of them going off on whatever obsession is the current pull--they watch Dragonball Z together and argue the merits of certain characters and mourn the loss of other characters; they sit in a cluster, heads leaning towards each other, nintendo DSs in their hands as they all battle Pokemon together. It's a sight to behold, three siblings closer than any I've ever seen, who depend on each other to get things done, to help the other, to irritate each other occasionally, and to argue ferociously, none of them giving ground. They are wrapped up in each other that together, they operate as a triad, which when you consider that Bobby is 12 and 14 years older than his sisters, nothing short of wonderful.
But still...as I sit here, alone except for cats who are also loving the quiet, I savor this moment--no noise but the fan and the constant ringing in my ears (tinnitus can be a real bitch) and I appreciate that I am finally able to enjoy solitude, the chance to think, to just be, to be alone and silent, no demands being made on me.
It's taken a long time to get used to that when you consider that Rosie has been in school for four years and I'm just now finally accepting of time alone at home without feeling lost.
I think I'll sit here, sip my coffee, and stare--relishing the opportunity to just BE for a moment.