Listening to Chimes

I’ve actually got a moment right now where the house is still and quiet. I can't hear children--only the noise of the aquarium humming (I didn’t realize it made that sound) and chimes playing outside in the blowing wind. This is a rare occasion—one that must be taken in with a deep, nourishing breath. There are times when the noise level is so great in my house, and the word “Mom” is repeated so many times in a five minute period that I’d like to run screaming down the street. For example, this morning we were getting ready for church and I could hardly think straight. One kid needed me to find him a belt, another couldn’t find his shoes, one daughter needed her hair fixed and two daughters needed a referee for their squabble because one said the other was—gasp--“staring” at her. One son needed insulin and another needed me to magically dry his just-washed undershirt in thirty seconds. Meanwhile, my husband was frustrated because he needed to create a typed sign-up list and the printer wasn’t working. Somehow, I was supposed to resolve this problem, too. Then, when he opted to use the printer in his police car, he managed to lock himself out with the keys still inside. I ended up driving our half-dressed motley crew myself as he stood in the driveway attempting to break into his own patrol car with a hanger.

Life is joyous. I can hear chimes.