I am tired tonight, so this may be brief, but wanted to get it posted while it is fresh on my brain.
One thing of which I have become keenly aware in parenthood are all the little noises that make up the constant din of life. Particularly noticeable are those noises that occur at night, especially here in a multi-unit condo building a javelin’s throw from the heart of downtown Chicago (I’ve tried throwing a stone across the river, but it can’t be done, at least not by my 38 year old blown-out arm). This is because of how much I have learned to value a full uninterrupted night of sleep, and the rarity at which it occurs for me. By the way, from my wife’s point of view, every word in this post should be in ALL CAPS and bold print as she takes the brunt of the nighttime disturbances.
Among the noises that grate on me are the horrible and demanding moan of the cat. Who ever thought keeping a nocturnal animal as a pet was a good idea never lived with two kids in a downtown loft…I can assure you of that. Before the children, I wouldn’t even have known Jack was here save for the cat-hair-bunnies in the corners of the room, but once the kids arrived, the 3 o’clock hour brings a nightly chorus of demands that must be met with the opening of a Fancy Feast for them to end! I am a whisker away from gathering what’s left of his food along with a can opener in a bandanna, tying it to a stick, and sending him packing…and if any of you PETA folk have an issue with that, by all means, offer up your own loving home.
Another recurring cacophony is the late night (and please understand that “late” for us these days is after 9:00 pm) ambling of the neighbors above us. Please note that I have an acute understanding of how loud we are through most of the daylight hours, so do not blame the folks upstairs, but it is what it is. This is a brick and timber loft building and virtually every unit has beautiful hardwood floors cushioned here and there with area rugs. Well, when lying in bed, those high heeled shoes trotting across the ceiling/floor might as well be poking directly through my eardrum, and worse, the eardrum of my suddenly sensitive little boy. Yes, Xavier has entered his inquisitive phase for lack of a better term, and wants to know the origin and meaning of every drip, scrape, clank, and creak made once he lies down to sleep. Once he is awakened, it becomes a game of 20 questions before I can head back to the warmth of my own bed.
Finally, and by no means is this even close to an exhaustive list, there is the “man-sized” rocking recliner that I purchased for Kerry about a year and a half ago to replace the even more nauseating squeaky wooden rocker passed down from her grandmother. Oh, that old rocker was going to be the end of my sanity altogether, so we headed out to find a suitable replacement upon which Kerry rests with the babies, first Xavier, and now Hayden. The chair is a vital piece of furniture, but as I stated above, we live in a loft condo with very high ceilings, no complete walls, and hardwood floors. For a while, the new chair was a dream. It brought comfort, quiet, and peaceful sleep, but then things began to change.
The Beast
A squeak began to develop, and grew steadily until it became almost as bad as the replaced rocker. The darn thing is also elusive, and no amount of WD-40 can quiet the beast. I considered rubbing bacon grease on all the joints before Kerry calmly reminded me that it might attract bugs…right, that though it might smell nice, would not be a desirable solution. The problem is, that as I said, the chair is vital to our nighttime rituals, so the squeaks continue, and with each one, the nerves fray a bit more, and the temptation to toss it over the balcony become all so appealing.
Because we are in a seemingly eternal showing cycle as we continue to try to sell our home, we can not afford a net addition to the “staged” environment. This means, of course, that the recliner too now must find a new home. So up for sale it goes. Still to be determined is whether it goes on craigslist.com or on e-Bay, but either way, it must begone. Oh, give it a carpeted floor upon which to rest, and it will be a good quiet-er friend for years to come. With soft microfiber, and a surprising amount of lumbar support, it is one of the most comfortable chairs I have ever slept in, and have completed many a night doing just that. Alas, this is not that home. With any luck, we will get an offer on our house before we unload the chair, but that would seem unlikely, and the beast will have to go, only to be replaced with a smaller and more nimble cousin from the glider family. And if any of you are interested, and live in Chicago, please let us know…perhaps we’ll throw in a medium sized good-natured black cat as a bonus!
So, as I type as quietly as I can to avoid the toddler inquisition, I bid you all adieu. I wish you all silence and a full night’s sleep!
Be Well!
