Last Thursday I took the FarmHands to the playground near their school after signing #1 Son up for summer T-ball (this will be a first for us....team sports). After more than an hour of hollering around to answer questions, warn away from dangers, and remind B.B. to be cautious of his jumping, my throat got a bit raw.
On the way home, we had to stop at Uncle E's because Bitsy saw A Starry Night's car parked in the driveway. Bitsy is fascinated by Starry Night. She likes Disney Princesses & is going to marry NM later this summer. But those two facts alone don't make Starry Night safe to talk to. It's really much better to sit & stare at her while she attempts to chat you up. Just ask Bitsy, she'll tell you.
By the time we got back to the Farm, I was pretty raspy. By the next morning, much to the FarmHands' delight, I had no voice to speak of, or with. Since then I've been fighting an uphill battle. It's not an easy thing to mother 4 wild children when you can hardly speak above a whisper.
Friday night I got in the shower long enough to get to the heavy conditioning portion of the event when #1 Son began screaming, "MOMMY!! MOMMY!!" and pounding on my bed room door with his fists. I tried in vain to ask him what was wrong, but it quickly became obvious he could not hear me. I jumped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around me & ran to the door, dripping all over the carpet. When I threw the door open, I fully expected to find him bleeding profusely, the kitchen aflame, his sister unconscious, and the dogs suddenly turned into rabid zombie hounds of hell.
In reality, the episode of Super Hero Squad they were watching on the DVR had ended & he wanted me to start another.
I'm pretty sure flames shot out my ears. I know my head made at least one full 360 degree rotation. He knew he'd made a grave error in judgement. I finished my shower & let the 110 degree water cool me off a bit.
That's when I decided I needed to take a different approach. When you cannot gain their attention with volume, you need to inspire them to behave in other ways. In quieter ways. In more nefarious ways. In Meryl Streep ways.
I fear that by the time I have her ice cold, deadly quiet disposition down pat, my voice will have returned with a vengeance.