Wednesday, April 2, 2014

You won't even know I'm here

There's this strange thing that happens to me.

The harder I try to be quiet, the louder I am.

A couple weeks ago, I came home earlier than expected to find Tad just settling in on the couch to watch a sporting event of some kind.  I knew he was probably looking forward to the quiet calm of the post-bedtime house.  I felt kind of bad for bringing myself and my wild energy back home.  I hugged my husband and told him, "You won't even know I'm here."  He went in to watch his game and I immediately, whilst putting dishes away, dropped fifteen forks on the floor.
My children were now aware of my existence and wanted me to come upstairs.  I smiled sheepishly at Tad and went up the steps to greet my tucked-in children, now all un-tucked and jacked up at my presence.
After they were settled in again, I brought my bottle of water in and my book and sat on the opposite end of the couch from Tad...spilling my water all over the place, my water bottle falling down with a resounding THUNK!
Yep. Won't even know I'm here.


The other night, I was coming home from the Landmark of all places at nearly one in the morning and Tad was in bed.  I opened the door ever so quietly, tiptoed into the kitchen quiet as a cat, and then proceeded to walk into the counter and knock over two coffee cups.


I shushed myself and then walked through to the living room, forgetting to take my boots off CLOMP CLOMP CLOMP and then tripping over myself when I finally did get my boots off.  Then I went into the bathroom, shutting the door so Tad wouldn't hear the water running, etc.  The door didn't shut the first time. CLICK CLICK.  Nor the second. CLICK. Nor the third. CLICK CLICK CLICK!  Finally it shut and I got myself washed up and into pajamas and crept into our bedroom.  Just before I got into bed with Tad, I tripped over the space heater, fell on top of it, and accidentally turned it on. The WHIRRR, RATTLE started up and then I started laughing.

Finally I got into bed with Tad. He put his warm, sleepy arms around me and whispered, "Thanks for being so quiet when you came in, honey."

1 comment:

  1. You're better at being quiet than my husband. When he's trying to be quiet he has a habit of kicking the one toy that goes bat shit crazy if you tap it and then he'll curse and yell "Sorry".