My voice isn’t quiet. My laugh definitely isn’t quiet. And I work in a job that’s base sound is scanners, yelling and lots of TVs on at the same time.
What I’m telling you is — I’m somewhat used to loud.
But none of these things bother me.
What bothers me is that my house is so loud — but only when Tom is taking a nap.
Tom usually falls asleep in the car on the way home from daycare and I just bring him inside and put his car seat in the living room and let him finish his nap in there.
I don’t take him out of the carseat because he will wake up. In a horrible mood.
And I don’t put him and his carseat in his room because he wakes up screaming. (I think it scares him. Maybe he doesn’t like the way I decorated his room? Hmmm…)
Anyway, I put him in the living room.
And then I spend the next 30-45 minutes tiptoeing around my house because my hardwood floors — are LOUD!
It seems I always manage to step on the parts that creak really loudly. And Tom stirs. And I freeze.
It’s like freeze tag. Except not fun.
Yesterday I was tiptoeing to get a paper towel. I ripped the paper towel off the roll.
LOUDEST. NOISE. EVER.
Probably no one. But I’m telling you, it seemed deafening.
And don’t even get me started if the phone rings. I freak out. Tiptoe-running through my house, diving for the phone, clicking it on but not speaking and then quietly walking outside to breathlessly say, “Hello?”
(If it’s a telemarketer, which it is, I tell them to die.)
The toaster pops and it’s like a gunshot.
The dog shakes his ears and I cringe.
My cell alerts me to a text and I shudder.
Is this normal? Do all mothers so desperately want their child to sleep that they try to think of really quiet things to do?
This extremely loud house is completely to blame for all the trashy novels I’ve been reading.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.