Making noise

I know the answer to the classic question: If a tree falls in the forest but no one is around to hear, does it make a noise?

Yes, it does. It's the sound of me yelling, "Argh!" over the kids when there is no one there to commiserate. It's the "sound" of me rolling my eyes when Tobey dawdles. It's the sound of me saying, "Oh Lord, help me!" when Tobey is in screaming defiance. It's also the sound of, "Thank God!" when he finally goes in the potty or "Phew!" when he knows his ABC's and I realize that maybe his time at home isn't as educationally barren as I thought -- although for those positive moments in my day, I usually will call Tom and work to share the joy. With the frustrating moments, they usually end up bottled up inside me.

Sure I could call a girlfriend who fully understands all those times of frustration, but at that moment that I discover blown out poop on a baby that I just dressed head to toe for cold weather while a toddler stands around and screams because he can't get his shoes on, there is no one. And for this, I also have started to understand why Tobey screams the way he does when he's mad or whines when he has a boo boo. Because he's like me: he wants someone to listen and commiserate with him.

Now I understand even more Tania's affection for her nanny. It's not just about the help, it's about companionship. When your kids learn something new, there's someone there to rejoice with you. When you're about to tear your hair out, yes, there's someone to help but more so, there's someone who can see you roll your eyeballs or hear your "grrr".

And the help seems nice to help lower frustration too. The other day, I was at CC's. When I arrived, she was nursing Nathan. Within a few minutes she came down with Nathan. When the nanny entered the room, CC was able to tell the nanny that Nathan just spit up all over the bed sheets so could she please change the sheets? Wow. That's so foreign and so luxurious because not only can someone else help with the mess, CC doesn't need to feel frustrated that she has a mess to clean up when she finds the few free minutes she has later. Or she could do what I do: wipe it off roughly and change the sheets...next week...and that spot to remind me every time I look at it about that gross spit up moment or how I don't feel like changing sheets.

I guess God will always hear me "scream" when I'm alone with the kids. And while that's comforting on one level, God doesn't change that poopy diaper for me.