Friday, December 4, 2015

The Cost of Quiet


I like to read.

I like to write.

I like to watch grown-up shows on TV. 

I like quiet in which to do these things.

I am a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom of two chattery children. Quiet is a luxury.

Quiet is highly coveted and highly prized in my home. After a long day of feeding children, answering complex questions, cleaning up cat poop, teaching lessons and breaking up fights, I am tired. I like alone time during which I get to be an adult acting on my own interests rather than those of someone else. I think this is entirely normal. As parents, we all need the opportunity to do our own thing outside of our children. Although I would not change it, I must admit that I have not chosen a pathway that has made "doing my own thing" very easy.

Some of you are in my shoes. You're with your kids all day long. You hear a constant hum of questions and blaming and whining and crying and overly loud voices.  You might even have a baby, and while babies themselves can make finding a chunk of quiet difficult, when coupled with older children, they make it nearly impossible. Some of you have more children than I do, and I have a feeling that with each extra child, the chances of obtaining quiet diminish exponentially. 

Some of you are stay-at-home-parents with school age kids whom you drop off in the morning, pick up in the afternoon, then wrangle with until you cart them off to bed.  You might have a glorious span of 6-8 hours of quiet during the day.  I am happy for you, and sometimes (ok, most days) I envy your quiet. I keep telling myself that if I had all that time during the day, I'd work out all the time, keep the house spotless, and learn some cool new skills. But we all know the truth is that I'd read all day long, in my pajamas, whilst eating poptarts, and only change to go pick up the kids. If you have kids that are gone all day while you are home, please enjoy your quiet on my behalf. Please use it wisely. Please do all of the things.

Some of you go to work, then come home and deal with children until you put them to bed and then crash into bed yourselves. You might get a little more adult interaction and brief opportunities for quiet during the day than I do, but you have to use your brain for meaningful tasks and you are probably much more exhausted than I am. You understand the struggle. You are living it. 

It is possible to create quiet in your day. 

But quiet is not free.

Quiet comes at a cost.

When I took Economics in school, I learned about "opportunity cost" which is basically the idea that nothing at all is free, because even if something doesn't cost you money, it costs you time, or costs you the opportunity to do or have something else. 

You can actually pay directly for quiet in the form of giving your money to a babysitter and then heading for the hills. Sometimes, that's the best and easiest way to obtain quiet. It can be totally worth it to spend cold, hard, cash on quiet.

Other times, you're strapped for cash or there is no one to watch your children, or you just want to be in your own home, in the quiet, and you're desperate and have to try something else. 

Quiet can still be attainable, but this kind of quiet comes with a hefty opportunity cost. In my 7 years of parenting, I've discovered that there are three ways in which I can achieve my delicious quiet. But all three come at a cost. 

Quiet = Gigantic Messes
There are some toys that my kids will play with for hours. Play-doh. Legos. Spielgaben. These toys happen to be, for lack of better words, a real bitch to clean up.  Tiny pieces are spread all over the carpet and under the furniture. Dried up play-doh is caked to a variety of surfaces. Paint is another one on this list. My kids could paint for days but they are going to cover every inch of themselves and the kitchen with it in the process. The way this usually works is that I get out said messy toy, set the kids up in the kitchen or living room, then bolt back to my room to pretend like nothing is happening outside of whatever it is I am enjoying during my quiet. When I emerge later, I almost always gasp at just how awful the scene is. Sometimes, it is worth it. Sometimes, it's not even close. 


Quiet = Zombie Children
In our house, we have rules about screen time. The kids aren't allowed to use screens until 4pm. This is for a reason. Once I turn on the TV, my kids will be quiet until they get hungry. They sit, nearly silently (unless they are fighting over what to watch) like little zombies, their bodies still and their eyes transfixed on the screen. Turn on the TV and provide them with sustenance and I can probably get three straight hours of quiet. The TV can make a really great babysitter, if I let it. If I pass the kids on my way to the kitchen to refill my coffee, I can see their little faces blank and staring and I feel guilty. I feel as though my selfishness is turning my children into puddles of goo. It's unfortunate. Maybe instead of quiet = zombie children, this should say quiet = guilt. Hmm. While I do allow the TV to babysit now and then, I feel too much guilt to let it happen very often. 


Quiet = Sleep Deprivation
This one is tricky. It starts out harmless enough. Yay, the kids are in bed! Time to do all the things! I unload the dishwasher while listening to an audiobook. I put on a workout DVD. I read my book. I take a shower. By then, two or three hours have passed and I should probably get myself to bed. But I don't. Because I am way behind on my shows. And my book is SO good.  And I have a funny idea to write about. So instead of going to bed, I keep reading and watching Netflix and blogging and before I know it, I'm doing the math and my kids are going to be up in less than 5 hours. Crap. I'm going to feel this in the morning. The next day will be long, and I'll be cranky with my kids because of my poor choices. But the quiet is just so enticing. I'm a night owl, and I find myself making this choice a lot. And therefore I am exhausted most of the time. 

I was given the gift of quiet, but it came with a huge side of tired. 

In short, there's a reason why my house is a mess, screens sometimes babysit my kids, and I am frequently tired and cranky. I just need some quiet in my days to keep me sane.

What is the cost of quiet in your household?

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