Who Are These People?

Have you ever spent time with your adult children and wondered, Who are these people?

Are these the people I raised? Yes, they are. Despite your efforts to instill manners, neatness, and teamwork, it didn’t take hold.

When they were growing up, they pretended to listen and obey. Now that you are no longer “the boss of them,” they conveniently forget and revert to the teenagers who lived with you at one time. You remember the sullen, scowling ones? Never happy? Always hungry? Not speaking to you?

Now, they occasionally do speak to you – when they want something. Their faces reflect better moods than they used to. They seem to enjoy being at your house. In fact, they make themselves right at home. They descend upon the fridge and cram stuff they brought in there. The kitchen counter is now covered with snacks, sweets, and dips. I tell myself to shut up about the fact that I have no counter space to use, and enjoy the fact that they are finally sharing.

Their children (your grandchildren) are also here. Their messes and trash are different from those of their parents, but they increase the general chaos by forty percent, and the volume by seventy percent. Somebody wants to watch SpongeBob, but the others want to watch Star Wars. Grandpa and I want to turn the TV off. They don’t need a TV. Each one has a phone, they can play apps, watch shows, and Google things.

With the youngsters’ content, I notice that the older kids have ADHD. While they play a card game, they commandeer my Alexa Dot and make her play odd songs – loudly. Someone decided to mess with the device’s programming, and now Alexa signed me up to buy music. Someone else is playing music from their phone at competing decibels. I would send everyone to their rooms, but we only have 2 guest rooms and 12 people.

It’s me who needs a time-out. The older I get, the more claustrophobic I am when it comes to noises, a lot of people, and clutter. Looking back to my younger days, I realize I have always been this way. It just gets to my nerves sooner now. It explains a lot about why old people are cranky.

Wanting to run away from home feels so wrong. I love each and every kid and their families. I look forward to their visits, and although I barely tolerate the chaos, I really do want them around. I miss them when they are not here. That being said, hubby and I are so used to being just us in our house. Us and, of course, our dog, Ziva. Our lives are quiet, with the occasional exception.

I can’t sneak out of here because my car is in the garage and blocked by other people’s trucks, Jeeps, and a patrol car. Where would I go anyway? It is dark now, and nothing is open. I am not supposed to be driving at night, so there is that. We also do not go for walks when it is dark. Our neighborhood is DARK. There are no street lights. And nocturnal creatures come out of the forest at night. Some are very BIG.

I realize my options for calming down are a hot shower and winter pajamas. I feel better just thinking about this. As for the noise, I remember I have earplugs. I wish I had thought of this sooner…

TTFN

The Sounds of Silence

Stacked firewood

Well… I’m still waiting.

At first I was patiently waiting. Then I was impatiently waiting. Now, I wear earplugs and curse a lot.

When you live where people have cabins, weekends are noisy. I don’t mind that. But it’s the Monday through Friday noise that’s disrupting my mind and soul. If it’s not chain-saws, it’s hammering, men talking (or yelling), cement pumpers, power tools and large trucks.  And that’s just today.

Some days (like today), when it gets really loud and goes on for an hour or more, I let Big Yellow loose. Might as well do housework, if I can’t think well enough to work on my novel. I swap out earplugs for iPod ear-buds and play soothing music to myself. Or hard-assed rock and roll, depending. Even with my ears full of music I can’t take a nap. Along with the headache, no nap makes me, shall we say “grumpy”?

And I hate it when the phone rings and it’s for hubby. This means I have to get my grubby shoes on, go out to the yard, or wherever he is, and wait for a pause in the saw, so I can get his attention and give him the handset.  You won’t hear any feminine voices singing out the window – “honey, the phone’s for you”.  He has very high quality earplugs that can block out everything, including wifely hollering.

There is a chance the autumn firewood cutting will stop this week. Then we should have enough stacked for the winter (please God, let 8 cords be enough!), and maybe, get some quiet around here. Until hubby and friend continue building shelves for the shop. Or whatever noise-making project they think up next.

Thank goodness NaNoWriMo does not begin until November.  I want to finish the draft of the dusty novel I started in 1991, before I get involved with another one.  Wish me luck on that idea  – Ha!
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photo credit: premasagar via photopin cc