No need to dress. No need to drive. No need to cook – heating a frozen dinner in the microwave was just fine.
And not one word. No need to speak at all, for 36 hours.
Bliss.
Yesterday was my first day off in two months. No parenting, no worrying, no checking a clock or stressing over teens and cars. No tending to domestic duties of any sort, other than the bare minimum for myself. And oh that silence. Golden indeed.
Silence in a kid-filled household
In a kid-filled household, noise comes with the territory, as does constant concern over schedules and infrastructure.
But pass on the sound of my own voice? Delicious.
I had my comforting tap-tap-tapping on the laptop keyboard, the gurgle of Mr. Coffee every few hours, and later in the day – reading, followed by Jane Austen on cable. May I say it again? Bliss.
As for this morning, though I woke early, I was able to concentrate on tasks of my choosing. In glorious silence.
Silence is golden, speech is silver
We all need a break now and then, and relative silence. But here’s the thing – the proverb actually states:
Silence is golden, speech is silver.
The point? Too much of this particular good thing is a downer. Speech – or rather, communication – is vital to human connection. Critical to our well-being. Both silence and interaction are essential currency.
Another quote I’ve always heard?
Silence is deafening.
And that one speaks volumes, about words that cannot be found to bridge misunderstandings. Or simply, too much time alone.
The parental hat
For as many hats as I wear, the motherhood hat is the one that carries the most burdens, and of course, satisfactions.
I reveled in my hours of silence. But now I’m ready for the upcoming week’s typical teen tortures, and to hear my son puttering around in the tiny office, cooking up concoctions in the kitchen, blaring music from his computer, and yes – I’m even prepared for the interruptions.
So I’ll soon be tracking his flight home, anticipating an end to my quiet, and expecting the annoyances of another all-nighter. A major project awaits, for my son to complete by morning. The air will crackle with crankiness, but it won’t be mine.
- What do you do when you get a day off?
- How do you feel about going silent?
Most of my days are days off now. One of the not very many benefits of aging. If Hub’s home, the TV is most likely on, so when he goes somewhere without me, I love the silence. Yesterday he was gone, and I thought about listening to some music, but the sound of silence was soooo lovely, I didn’t.
At the moment, Carol, I’m not up for more silence. It’s evening, my kid’s flight has been delayed for hours, and at this rate, I’m concerned he’ll arrive in the middle of the night, with few options for getting him home from the airport. Very frustrating. (Can you guess what we disagreed on a few days ago?)
Sometimes the quiet is lovely, isn’t it? Sometimes, not so much.
Woo Hoo – Enjoy your little break! Most of my days are silent and mostly I’m okay with it. When I’m around other people for too long I tend to have sensory overload and have to find a way to get quiet for a bit and recharge. I enjoy quiet but the sound of another’s presence would be welcome from time to time.
BLW, I like the compare and contrast between noise and silence in this post. When I was younger I didn’t crave silence, but fully inserted myself into noise and clutter. Now I absolutely adore silence. I think its because I am more comfortable within my skin. I do agree that there shouldn’t be an extreme of either element. Moderation is the key. Glad you had a lovely weekend.
I don’t crave silence. I enjoy the noises of my children playing while I do something around the house. Something I do crave is an awesome on-call baby-sitter who can make sure my lovely children don’t get into something–like, say, bleach–while I’m doing that something around the house. By “on-call” I mean someone who can come as soon as I snap my fingers. Any word on how I can find that???
: )
(So glad you had a bit of a break.)
Yesterday was the break. Today? Not so much.
I like that “snap your fingers” idea. 🙂
What’s a day off? I’m happy you had the opportunity for a little respite. It does sound like sheet bliss.
I definitely crave silence, but only in measured doses. If it goes too long, I wind up on the phone talking like a crazy woman to people who wonder if I’m on something. I day or two would be wonderful, but after that, the verbal eruption could be dangerous!
I am not good with silence. It makes me uncomfortable. I thrive in chaos, in noise. Even when I do my most serious writing, I do it to classical music. I hope to learn to embrace silence though; Intellectually, I know I am indeed missing out on something glorious and golden.
Great post.
I mostly spend my time off wondering what I should do, unable to decide where to start. A whole day to myself to be alone in my house is bliss. But always, always I welcome the noise back.
Yes. My son finally got home well after midnight, after a long day of pacing and worry and delays on the ground and delays in the air. I’m happy for the noise to return. Welcome, yes – I’m with you on that.
There is a peaceful kind of “sigh” or sense of joy that comes when I know the house is mine for just a bit… and yet, the house feels empty. It isn’t a “bad” thing – just a noticeable difference in that my daughter’s energy is not there. Her not being home can be difficult depending on where she is – but there is that sense of “mine, all mine!!” I always have great ideas – and usually end up just doing whatever feels right at the time.
I’m at a stage where silence is hard to come by and so I find myself craving it. But I know how much I look forward to the return of the chatter and silliness when it does go away for awhile.
A day off seems elusive for me as a working mom. The late hours or very early morning can be quiet, but most days I crave sleep more than silence. Noise fills my days particularly with election day looming and the good ol’ blackberry doesn’t rest.
Silence in small doses can be refreshing, but I am not ready for the silence when my grown children move out on their own.
Glad you had time to recharge. I wish your son a safe trip home. And for you I wish a little teen chaos.
I’m glad your son made it home safely. The mention of the gurgle of Mr. Coffee made me smile — that sound is a welcome one around here too. The cat has come to recognize it as a signal that my lap will soon be available (I sit at the kitchen table with my mug and something light to read when I take breaks from work).