The Unnecessary Noise Gang

From 9am till 3pm 5 days a week, the house is oh so quiet. Shhhhh. Just the gentle hum of the heating and the tappity tap of some keyboards. The silence is occasionally broken by the offensive ring tone of my phone, which someone has set to a dog barking and I keep meaning to change it back to normal. But by the time I get off the phone I have forgotten all about it, until it barks at me again and I remind myself that I should change it back to normal as soon as I wind up this phone conversation. And repeat and repeat and repeat.

As I write this there is complete calm. I do not like things on in the background, except sometimes a little tunes to get down to while I fold the fucking never ending washing pile.

Then come 3pm, The Unnecessary Noise Gang swings into play, shattering my silence like a buzz saw. Clanging and dropping shit and niggling and fighting and questioning. Oh the questions. It is like living with Tony Barber.

Then Jack will begin singing his song. He has not been blessed with the gift of song. In his thin, watery tone he starts in…..

“Mummy is a dar-r-r-r-ling. She is so beeyo-o-o-o-o-tfil”

Which is all very lovely and sweet and shit, but after an hour of listening to it being sung while he does his homework, sits in the bath and eats his dinner, I am just about to not be a darling and beautiful, and turn into a screeching, psychotic hot mess.

So I ask him to cease. And as a reward I am bombarded with a thousand questions.

“Where is Dad? What time is it? What time is Dad home? What is for dinner? Can we watch Masterchef? Can we watch ALL of Masterchef? Why does Gary have monkey ears? What time do we have to go to bed? What day is it? What day is it tomorrow? What day is it on Saturday? Can Hannah have a sleepover? Can I sleep in Harry’s Room? Where is Dad? Where is Chuey? Why are you crying?”

I should not complain. There was a time there when Jack was a baby that we thought that there was a big chance he would never speak! Those chicks at The Shepherd Centre are complete over-achievers. (Thank you a gazillion times)

And come 7.30ish, The Unnecessary Noise Gang starts winding down, teeth are polished and final wrestling matches with their Dad are completed. Tucked into bed, with good night kisses planted and lights turned off.

And through the silence comes a faint, familiar tune.

“Mummy is a dar-r-r-r-ling………….”


*pours wine*