Day 1 - I let it slide. It happens. We all have those days when we just wake up ridiculously early for no reason and can't go back to sleep. No big deal.
Day 2 - Come on, seriously? Oh wait, Tom's awake and home for the morning so I'll just let him deal with it while I put my pillow over my head and go back to sleep for a little while.
Day 3 - Hmmm, is one sick? Perhaps teething? Maybe it's just that diaper rash that's waking Joey up. I'll just put Sesame Street on for an hour while I try to sleep on the couch.
Day 4 - ENOUGH. Seriously. Both boys awake at 4:30 in the morning. This will not do. I'm NOT letting this become habit forming. So I did what every exhausted mother would do: I closed my door and put my pillow over my head. Thankfully after a good half hour of back-and-forth crying (my boys like to take turns so as to make the constant crying last longer. so considerate) they conked out. Whatdoyaknow, they slept in until 8:30! That hasn't happened since Moses has been alive. Talk about a great morning.
So back to the epiphany. It came on day 2 while the boys were screaming and I was hiding under my pillow with Tom taking care of them. The thought: this must be what it's like to be Tom. Let me explain. As the mother of the household, I recognize every single sound in our home: I know the difference between a whiny cry, a hurt cry, and a tired cry. I hear the difference between angry footsteps and giddy footsteps. I can hear a noise from my bedroom and know exactly what Tom is doing in the kitchen. I know the inflections in Trueman's bark that distinguish if he's barking at a familiar face (like a mailman) or is curious of an unfamiliar neighbor walking down the street. I hear these noises all day every day.
On Day 2, though, when I was able to put the pillow over my head while Tom dealt with everything, something different happened: I heard the sounds but not the nuances and inflections. The pillow couldn't muffle the cries and the dog barking and the footsteps but it cut out my ability to decipher what it all meant.
So how does that translate to my epiphany? Well, Tom (and probably every other non-mother in a household) hears all the same sounds I do when he is home but he never quite seems to know what to do as quickly as I do. It's not because he's slow or dumb; it's because he's not the mom.
I'm grateful for mornings where Tom can step in and I can turn off the mom volume with a silencing pillow, but I'm also grateful that I am a mother with this hearing superpower. Motherhood is such a beautiful thing and I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world.
Mary, I finished reading this blog post with a small tear in my eye. You have all the gifts of a wonderful mother. I'm so proud of what I see and "hear" in your mothering. Joey and Moses are lucky little boys!
ReplyDeleteDeciphering sounds is something that truly makes a mother's job easier. Mom's are bombarded with sounds all day and as your story details well into the night sometimes. Knowing that a cry is not related to pain is a relief but none the less, a mom's ears can get pretty tired sometimes! :)
Keep up the good work, sweet Momma! You are amazing and I love you!
Your Momma!