When I wake up in the morning, my ears are filled with music. And what about my days!
No, not the coffee grinder my husband is using right now. No, not the sizzle of potatoes in the pan for my breakfast. No, not the radio I used to listen to so much while sipping my hot tea in the living room. No, not the gentle morning silence, with little birds chirping at my window. No, not my music blaring in the car or while I’m cleaning. No, it’s not quite the same anymore.
The soundtrack of my life has changed quite a bit with the arrival of my children. We’ve adjusted the volume for sensitive ears and restless sleepers. We’ve switched up our daily playlists to eliminate “bad words.” Above all, we’ve watched the babies to find their own rhythm and, in doing so, create a family soundtrack.
So in the morning when I wake up, I hear my daughter cooking up an imaginary bowl of oatmeal on her toy kitchen, with her little pots and pans, to the cheerful tune of Henri Godon and his Bedon Band. I hear my son humming on his car mat. I still hear the birds at my window when, oh miracle, the kids are sleeping at the same time. I hear laughter and frantic running through the house. I hear life growing and getting upset when things don’t go at the pace of a mad butterfly’s fluttering wings.
Between episodes of *Passe-Partout* or the third viewing of *The Wizard of Oz*, I’m allowed to listen to my “baby-approved” music. Silence seems less like a gift (unless it’s during nap time) and more like a sign that there’s a mess to clean up. I also know that I’ll lose all focus if the Star Trek theme song starts playing or if Tchaikovsky’s ballet music starts blaring in my living room.
The soundtrack of my life includes its share of baby cries and wails, yes, but above all, it’s filled with the bursts of laughter and shouts of joy my children make when they play together. The soundtrack of my life isn’t the same anymore, and that’s just fine.