LittleBrother isn’t afraid of anything. His shins are perpetually bruised because he climbs over, under, around and into things that BigBrother would have never thought to look at, let alone conquer. You would think being from the same genetic material that they would be somewhat similar. Not so much.

LittleBrother’s courageous streak is why the child was in a toddler bed before he was a year old. Climber McGee wouldn’t stay put. He keeps me on the edge of my parenting desires. I don’t want to be the Helicopter Parent at the playground. But, man, it would be great if the child would remember that he’s not even three yet and quit trying to be such a Big Kid all the time because I also don’t want him to have another concussion.

At least he’s having fun, right? Or so it seems as I caught him on the underside of one of the play things at our park’s playground during a playdate with another firefighter’s son this week. He was kicking his legs out and swinging by his hands.

Swinging

Not even three. I’m doomed.

He also launched himself down a (covered) slide head first simply because he saw a Big Kid do it. You can see his brain working as he watches older kids on the playground. “What’s that kid doing? Oh, I see. He’s hanging upside down from the horse. Hmm, I wonder if I can do that, too?” Off he runs. He cracks me up. He worries me so. He is his own person. For that, I am glad.

Of course, then he taught the other firefighter’s son, just barely three, how to do it as well.

Swinging and Bossing

And there’s BigBrother, feet firmly planted on the ground, bossing everyone around.

Doomed. Doomed. Doomed.

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[For more fun, this week's You Capture theme, visit I Should Be Folding Laundry. Next week is water.]

 

My house is not quiet. I’d blame the kids but if you have met me, well, you know that I contribute to the non-quiet-ness simply by being present in a room. I’m kind of loud. I don’t mean to be loud. I’d actually love to be more quiet, more reserved. And I am when I first meet people. Once I trust you? All bets are off. I don’t really have an inside voice. Laugh? Loud. Cry? Loud. Talk? Loud. Whisper? Yes, I even have a loud whisper. It’s no surprise that my children are equally loud.

But that doesn’t mean I never get Noised Out.

Toys make noise. The exhaust fan in the kitchen makes noise while I’m cooking supper. The dryer buzzes. My cell phone beeps. The neighbor doesn’t have a muffler. And while I’m glad that the birds are back and that Spring is near, man, those birds are loud at times. Sometimes, I just need quiet.

I don’t get much.

Sometimes I wake up before the boys do, though it’s hard to get up before BigBrother. His internal clock is set for Early O’Clock. Lately he’s been struggling to stay in his room until his digital clock reads seven-zero-zero. But sometimes I get to have a cup of coffee by myself in the wee hours of the morning, thinking about my day and planning our adventures before they begin.

Coffee

Sometimes I get to have a glass of wine by myself at night with the television off, the radio off, the noisy toys quieted and the children fast asleep. Sometimes I get to read in my bed during those hours as well, every third night finding FireDad sleeping at the fire station for his usual shift. Sometimes the kids even leave me alone in the shower, the hot water erasing the stress of the moment. Those moments, however, don’t last long. What is it about a shower that sends absolutely everybody in the house to the bathroom door? I need a sound proof bathroom. That’s the fix.

To be honest though, I can only stand so much quiet. Yes, I crave it. But when it’s too quiet, I hear little noises. The sound of silence is actually too loud for me as we discovered in January when our electricity went out due to the snow storm. It’s deafening, that silence of nothingness. And so, while I get overwhelmed sometimes, I’ll take the noise even if it means that I sometimes get startled and spill my coffee on my robe, pants or new floor. The noise, of course, is just a sign that we’re happy and healthy and able to make that noise.

Or, that’s what I tell myself on the days that I want to run off and buy ear plugs.

For more quiet, visit today’s challenge at I Should Be Folding Laundry. Next week’s challenge is reaching. Hmm.

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