The Quiet

Most mothers dream of it: nap time, alone time, bath time, time with a book.  Also known as quiet time. I did too, once.  I still enjoy the quiet occasionally.  However, being recently divorced the quiet has taken on a new kind of body.  The Quiet is its own person, a forceful existence that weighs heavily in every room as I wander around wondering what to do with myself.  It has been almost 9 months, and I am just now finding myself ‘okay’ with 20 minutes here and there alone with the Quiet.  

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I have my two girls every other week for one week increments.  For that week, we do fun stuff.  We swing, color everything with marker, tear up styrofoam (stereofoam to the layperson) and throw it all over the house, and blow bubbles.  On alternate weeks, I absorb myself with laundry and the aftermath.  And the Quiet.  The Quiet is a big fat, lurking jerk.  He reminds me of the absence of their giggles (also their fighting).  The Quiet reinforces the fact that I have no idea what to really do with my TV.  He is persistently exacerbating my ADHD as I love to indulge in piles of books but find myself bored after about ten pages.  The Quiet makes things possible you never thought possible, such as the toaster scaring the daylights out of you and being terrified of the dryer buzzer.

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It is now November, summer is long gone, just as I have found a way to calm down the Quiet and tame him.  If I am running, hiking, or biking, he can’t keep up with me and waits for me at the house (wimp).  I am getting better everyday.  We are improving our relationship and maybe someday we will be friends.  For now, I tolerate the screams of the Quiet and welcome any and all suggestions on how to mute him.  Cheers to ski season.

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