Peace And Quiet? No, Thanks.

Every parent yearns for peace and quiet.  We crave just a few moments respite from the constant chaos of parenting.  But usually, when we finally do hear the beautiful sound of no noise at all, we fear that silence.  Case in point: my new baby.  I finally moved her into a bassinet so that I can sleep for a few hours straight at night.  But this didn't help me sleep better at all.  Instead, I kept getting up to put my finger under her nose and make sure she is breathing!  I feel worried every minute that she sleeps peacefully, and I am reassured by her kvetching and fussing.  It's good to know she is breathing.

There are other types of breathing too.  For example my preteen boys breathing, which sounds more like wrestling, but is equally reassuring.  When the wrestling stops and all goes quiet, I get really nervous.  My mind starts racing with all the possibilities of what could have gone wrong, and I run to see what is going on.  My boys see my face and ask, "Are you okay?"  Yes.  I'm just glad you are both still breathing.

Most parents can relate to my fear of silence with regard to my toddler.  There is no silence that screams louder than the lack of noise coming from him.  I need to hear his constant breathing, in this case the sound of toy cars crashing into each other, soccer balls being bounced off the living room walls, and all the accompanying breaking sounds that accompany a toddler at play.  When I don't hear any noise from him, I RUN to check on him and make sure he is still breathing.

Then there is my eleven year old son.  Lately he has been acting really strangely, cleaning up his room, not fighting with his siblings, and even completing his school work without any fuss.  Last night, he went to bed the first time I asked.  Jarred alert by the silence, I went to his room to check on him.  There he was in bed, ready to go to sleep.  I was so confused by this behavior, and I worried that something was wrong.  I went to put my finger under his nose, but I couldn't figure it out.  "Mom, are you okay?" he asked me.  I'm not sure, I thought.  He seemed to be breathing, but yet I was still unsettled by the peace and quiet.

As my kids are getting older, it gets increasingly more difficult to check that they are okay, that they are breathing.  I am worried that my finger-under-the-nose trick no longer works for some of them.  I yearn for peace and quiet, but along with that I need a new way to check that they are still "breathing."  And I wonder if I will ever be okay with the calmness I dream of.

I am starting to understand why my mother will call me sometimes in the evening and ask how everything is going even though I just spoke to her that morning and told her everything is fine.  She probably just wants to check that I'm breathing.