Enjoy the silence…

I know. Depeche Mode wrote that about teen angst relationship stuff, but here I am past midnight enjoying it – immensely. I have not been able to sit down for two seconds to write anything down in the past few months – not even by locking myself in the bathroom (that actually makes it worse because the banging is even more nerve racking). Sure, I was warned, but this is something else. I don’t mind the having to change diapers again for the little one or the loads of laundry due to the tail end of potting training for the older one. I can handle the “stop touching your brother” and “don’t give that to him he will choke… and stop laughing it’s not funny!” or “how many times do I have to tell you not to (fill in the blank with pretty much anything a toddler could do)!” and my favorite from the adults “do you know what YOUR son did?!” I can take all of that because somehow I expected it from hearing other parents and from watching lots and lots of Bill Cosby. What I cannot take is the incessant cacophony of screaming and crying and yelling and singing (although closer to screaming) and the “daaaaaady can you (fill in the blank with anything)?!”

I used to hear myself think. Even after my first son was born. There were moments in which I could contemplate and knit my brow while reading, surfing the net or just thinking. I miss it terribly. I crave it. I dare say I need it!

I’ve been reduced to a bumbling fool by a 6 month old and a 3.5 year old.

I envy Homer Simpson.

OK. Back to enjoying the silence.

The sound of silence…

There are a few moments in the busy day and life of a parent in which you might find yourself alone. Usually, for me, it is while I am in transit between point A and point B. I may take a side street to avoid the cacophony of the larger and more frequented streets that are everywhere in New York. The hustle and bustle suddenly subsides and I might actually hear a bird chirping and hear the leaves on a tree lined street rustling. No cars are hurtling by and there is no one to bump into as I make my way down the street. If the sun is shining I sometimes stop to enjoy this moment. It is rare, but precious – like anything that is teetering on the edge of extinction. The loneliness of the moment is quite intoxicating. I can hear my thoughts. I can hear my breathing. I can remember what it was like when I was not a father and had time to just do absolutely nothing if I so chose. And then I turn the corner and plunge back into my life – my now. I do miss those moments, but I miss them because I am in a better place right now. I have my own family to go home to with a son who yells “Daddy!” when I open the door and hugs my leg. Just that moment is enough to make me survive the craziness that is being a parent. I can only appreciate the silence now that I can no longer have it on demand, but no longer really need it to function. One of the many contradictions of parenthood that I live without regrets.