I have an 8-year-old and a 4-year-old. They have one volume, and that is 11. This seems especially so first thing. But it could just be, I’m not a morning person.
Why are young children so noisy? Was I this loud in childhood? My father says we were good kids, but I don’t think he remembers the karate matches in the living room. I’ll bet our old downstairs neighbors do.
Being at home with my babies during quarantine was a hidden blessing. They’re still little, and you don’t get this time back. Before I know it, they won’t want to be around me anymore like they do now. And it will inevitably fill me with regret that I didn’t do enough while I could.
Desmond is the family comedian (and class clown, from what I understand). Intellectually gifted, he’s been reading since he was two. He’s ambitious and prolific. He will be the writer I never was (or teacher, or “place-worker” aka waiter…or all three).
Aislyn is, oddly, the social butterfly in a family of introverts. Creative and rebellious, with blond hair and high cheekbones like her grandmother, she will break hearts.
The only thing either of them really got from me are their eyes. Funny, though, three completely different shades of blue between the three of us.
I had a terrible time with Desmond going back to school this year. I wanted to keep him home until he was vaccinated, but he so wanted to go back, was ready after a year and a half of remote learning. Every night I prayed for the wisdom to know what the “right” answer was.
Then in October we had a scare, when he came down with a sore throat. Thankfully, that’s all it was.
I struggled coming back to work, too. I felt so guilty, thinking Aislyn would be devastated, but it turns out it affected me more than it did her.
So, while it’s true they’re noisy, they’re also my everything.