Commotion

Recently Ethan (my most musical child) was playing the piano at the same time one of the girls was talking. "No piano!" I barked.

"Fine!" he retorted, storming off. I couldn't blame him for being offended - after all, he had been executing a nice rendition of "How to Save a Life," not scrapping his nails on a chalkboard. I apologized to him later, explaining what all my kids have already figured out: noise stresses me out.

I didn't used to freak out about too much noise (obviously only an old, stodgy person would do that.) I had music on constantly, especially when Ethan and Abby were babies. I played classical music to smarten them up, jazz to infuse them with an innate sense of cool, and edgy alternative so I could pretend to myself that I wasn't all that far out of college. But then they got older and started talking, loudly and at the same time, and soon Gracie was babbling and the Fisher Price bus was playing music while kids were having tantrums and Barney was singing on TV and Ethan learned to whistle and we got a harmonica and a toy vacuum and a howling hound dog ...

Yep, it was just like that. Only I never wore my hair in a bun.

I told Ethan, "Someday you and the girls will be reminiscing about childhood and you'll say, Remember how Mom always freaked out about noise? And you'll be right. But you have to understand how I got this way."

I explained that I'd been trapped in the van one too many times with too many audio sources: Ethan whistling, Abby and Gracie singing two different songs, and Mira crying because she'd dropped a toy (a musical toy, which managed to land on the floor with its "on" button is pushed in, resulting in Old MacDonald had a farm Old MacDonald had a farm Old MacDonald had a farm Old MacDonald had ...) Oh and let's not forget the top 40 radio that someone begged me to turn up.

"Now my brain cells can't take it," I concluded. "They want out when there's too much noise."

"That's excellent," Ethan said. "I can just picture your brain cells trying to escape."

Apparently he could visualize the scene rather well. Later he drew a detailed picture of my brain cells trying to escape the commotion. I have to admit, I think he captured it pretty well.

Here's the scene he drew:

A close up. I especially like the one in the middle, crying in the fetal position.