It's Derby Day!!
I wake. My eyes open slowly to a deliciously silent room, the welcome sound of Alan grinding the coffee beans. There is dappled sunlight coming in my window, a cool fall breeze gently moving the curtains.There's this soft hum in my ear. I strain to hear it. What is that? Is is coming from outside? Is it the fridge? The baby monitor? Then the boy comes padding in, with his book and stuffed dog that he brings every morning, wanting me to read to them as we snuggle in bed. Whatever the sound was, it's gone for now, reduced to a tiny muffle as I begin my day.
After taking Alan to work the kiddos and I stop at the park. Surprisingly, there is a rare moment of actual, peaceful, genuine silence in the car as we drive. No one is asking me to spell things, explain what red/green lights or the "ing" on the end of "park" on a sign means. The girl has found solace in one of her books. There it is again, that hum from the morning, but only a teeny bit louder, teasing at my eardrums, just barely audible. I'm puzzling over this when the silence is broken by windows shattering (exaggeration) and screechingly loud (NO exaggeration) monkey/banshee/dolphin calls from the girl and simultaneous questioning from Aldo, "What is Oona saaaayyyyinggg???"
Now it's lunch time, and there it is again, that buzz in the furthest depths of my hearing, only now it's less polite, co-existing with the kids as they have some sort of non-verbal conversation with each other, banging their heads back on their high chairs laughing like hyenas as they eat. Them and this hum in my ear, along with the sound of the garbage truck and the incessantly barking, extremely annoying mutt mini pinscher across the street who I would like to feed a laced milkbone to is creating a lovely cacophony as the soundtrack for my day. But still, that hum is just not clear enough for me to make out.
As I drive to the rink there it is again, this time more rhythmic and louder than ever, nagging at my ears, insistent. I'm pulling on my awesome striped knee socks, lacing my skates, adjusting my toe savers and double checking the pads I slipped in to protect against blisters. Finally I am strapping on my elbow, knee and wrist guards. Mouth guard in tasting freshly of the mouthwash I just rinsed it in. Helmet on. I make my way to the track, push off in a run on my giant toe stops and there it is, only this time, full volume, no politeness or stepping back to allow my day of momming to take the forefront. It's crystal clear now, in sharp focus and on high volume, the music pulsating through my veins, reverberating in my ears. I'm experiencing it on a cellular level, and grinning with every piece of my being:
I wake. My eyes open slowly to a deliciously silent room, the welcome sound of Alan grinding the coffee beans. There is dappled sunlight coming in my window, a cool fall breeze gently moving the curtains.There's this soft hum in my ear. I strain to hear it. What is that? Is is coming from outside? Is it the fridge? The baby monitor? Then the boy comes padding in, with his book and stuffed dog that he brings every morning, wanting me to read to them as we snuggle in bed. Whatever the sound was, it's gone for now, reduced to a tiny muffle as I begin my day.
After taking Alan to work the kiddos and I stop at the park. Surprisingly, there is a rare moment of actual, peaceful, genuine silence in the car as we drive. No one is asking me to spell things, explain what red/green lights or the "ing" on the end of "park" on a sign means. The girl has found solace in one of her books. There it is again, that hum from the morning, but only a teeny bit louder, teasing at my eardrums, just barely audible. I'm puzzling over this when the silence is broken by windows shattering (exaggeration) and screechingly loud (NO exaggeration) monkey/banshee/dolphin calls from the girl and simultaneous questioning from Aldo, "What is Oona saaaayyyyinggg???"
Now it's lunch time, and there it is again, that buzz in the furthest depths of my hearing, only now it's less polite, co-existing with the kids as they have some sort of non-verbal conversation with each other, banging their heads back on their high chairs laughing like hyenas as they eat. Them and this hum in my ear, along with the sound of the garbage truck and the incessantly barking, extremely annoying mutt mini pinscher across the street who I would like to feed a laced milkbone to is creating a lovely cacophony as the soundtrack for my day. But still, that hum is just not clear enough for me to make out.
As I drive to the rink there it is again, this time more rhythmic and louder than ever, nagging at my ears, insistent. I'm pulling on my awesome striped knee socks, lacing my skates, adjusting my toe savers and double checking the pads I slipped in to protect against blisters. Finally I am strapping on my elbow, knee and wrist guards. Mouth guard in tasting freshly of the mouthwash I just rinsed it in. Helmet on. I make my way to the track, push off in a run on my giant toe stops and there it is, only this time, full volume, no politeness or stepping back to allow my day of momming to take the forefront. It's crystal clear now, in sharp focus and on high volume, the music pulsating through my veins, reverberating in my ears. I'm experiencing it on a cellular level, and grinning with every piece of my being:
So when are we setting up the obstacle course? :) I'm 100% serious. Sunday? - Neighbor Katie
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