I’ve forgotten what quiet sounds like

The river breathes mist, exhaling delicately into the sun.
When’s the last time I charged my cell phone? Will it hold out until tonight?
The water beneath the billowing tendrils sparkles.
Bonhomme didn’t eat very many of his carrots last night at dinner. How many servings of fruits or vegetables did he have yesterday? Was that his only one? Does three carrot slices count as a serving?
The freshly fallen snow is still white on the curb, like pipings of carefully planned icing.
I should have given him less chicken fingers. Am I making a mistake in having him practice self-regulation, instead of more consciously monitoring his caloric intake? I can’t believe I stooped to chicken fingers.
Katherine Jenkins‘ voice soars in Ave Maria; heaven here in my car, surround sound.
He spilled the detergent again, godDAMNit! It’s just laundry! Why can’t I just do it on my own? Alone!
The road flows smoothly, my new winter tires on my new car vanquishing the snow. I grin fiercely.
Late. Again. Late, late, late. So late. Again.
The tree branches are stark and proud against the gemstone sky.
I’m so tired. Why am I so tired? I had my coffee. I slept OK – last year I would have considered last night’s sleep miraculous! I’m so freakin’ tired.
The wind cuts into the beauty of the day the moment I open the car door. I step into the cold, howling vastness.
I haven’t been writing very much. The words aren’t coming. Where did they go? What’s wrong with me? I can always write! What’s going on?
The crunch of my footsteps embellishes the symphony of cars and crows, wind and wilderness.
I can’t believe he got Grandmaman to play that Nerf gun shooting videogame with him.
My breathes steams up my glasses, making the world glow.
When’s the last time I got him to successfully nap? He stills needs it, he’s such a handful when he doesn’t get it. I know he’s that age, but still – there’s so much going on in that head of his. Isn’t it the ultimate parental mistake not to insist on what you know is good for your children? He watched three Dirty Jobs episodes for Quiettime, for Pete’s sake! What kind of mother am I?
The buildings loom up, hazy shadows in the brilliant aura that my glasses have become.
He wet his pants three times yesterday. Is he backsliding?  He has to be potty trained before September. I have to remember to enroll him this week – I can’t miss the deadline. Thank God Dearest has agreed to send Bonhomme to the French school. I haven’t been teaching him enough French on my own. At least he’s not telling me he’s flushing my French down the toilet anymore.
“Good morning!” I call to the guard as I swipe my pass. I’m even more blind behind my glasses now, in the warm indoor air. The world of branches and wingbeats and humming tires is replaced with beeps and clacking and chatter. Coffee wafts.
I could splurge on a second cup today. Yes.


6 comments so far

  1. […] Thespian Size Small Tamara Manning of Flavoured Echoes Why I Love Photography Grace of Mothermind I’ve Forgotten What Quiet Sounds Like Nat Hanson of From Nat’s Brain Girl, You’ll Be A Woman Soon Jes Lacasse of Your Sweet […]

  2. mindofgrace on

    Wow, thanks for all the comments on this post! And the vote of confidence on the Blog Out Loud front – I’d love to speak at it this year.
    It’s funny – I didn’t plan this post. I just sat at the keyboard, kind of morose that I didn’t have any good ideas to capture. So I decided to just start writing and see. Clearly, my incessant inner dialogue hit home! I think we all doubt our parenting. Especially on the bad days. But that’s when – when those horribles come out – that it really matters. That’s when it matters that we open up the box of chicken fingers, turn on the TV, and just cuddle. Cause sometimes, that’s what weathering the storm looks like.

  3. Moosilaneous on

    Ah, I hear you.
    Glad that you are seeing the river. Despite the current of unrest that continues in your mind, the river flows on.

    Fabulous writing, I agree with Lynn. Please Blog Out Loud this one!

  4. Lynn on

    I love, love, love this post. The writing is just beautiful. I know you’re not too brave or public, but please consider it for Blog Out Loud this year.

  5. Vicky on

    It’s like you’re reading my mind… freaky! That constant monologue is in my head all of the time too. Don’t feel bad we have chicken fingers for dinner at least every other week, Jocelyn loves them and as for veggies, I have no idea if she’s getting enough either, we usually have fries with out chicken fingers : ) She hasn’t napped at home since she gave up the soother (almost a year now) and we are going through a very rough patch with listening right now. Is it because she watches TV and plays computer games a little too much? I don’t know, and I feel like I am always doing things wrong when it comes to discipline. I wish I didn’t feel this way, I wish I was more confident in my parenting and most of all I wish I knew what I was doing. Please let this phase pass quickly.

    • Moosilaneous on

      Yes, Vicky, it passes. Unfortunately, most often because the constant doubts are supplanted by an immediate crisis. But sometimes, it just fades when you see the little terror interacting with someone else and you realize – she’s a fabulous kid – she just saves her horribles for home. That’s where she can test everything and come unstitched.

      At least until the next issue brings the doubts to life again…

      But maybe, if we didn’t doubt at all, it would mean we weren’t paying attention. So it’s a good thing?

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