where the noise is

we've all heard that "home is where the heart is". i was thinking this morning, as i poured my first cup of coffee for the day in my brand new kitchen, in my brand new house, that maybe home is where the coffee is. my home would be where my coffee pot sits on the kitchen counter, the giant containers of folger's and coffeemate stacked in the cabinet above, waiting for me to click that little button over to the right so that my day can begin as it should- caffeine induced.
then i heard it.
"waa.."
not really a cry. more like a sweet little sound of "i'm awake. it's time to pick me up please. i can hear you in there" from my 4-month-old son. i set my coffee on the counter, not to be picked up again until it was almost too cold to drink . i say "almost" because i'll drink it regardless. i walked into the still not-quite-put-together nursery, over to the crib, and picked up my smiling infant. he babbled on and on for what seemed like twenty minutes, but was probably closer to two. this "noise" is what wakes me up. it's what makes my heart beat. it's what makes me take every single breath that i take.
silence stinks.
this comes from a woman who rarely lets a quiet moment fill her home. i talk. a lot. but the sounds that fill my house are, to me, what makes it a home. i have only been in the "new house" since monday and already it is my home. but something is missing.
noise.
i need more noise.
i have two other children. an 8-year-old daughter and a 5-year-old son. they both talk as much as i do. (a trait that, i'm sure, their father wishes they hadn't inherited) they left on christmas day to move to virginia where their father lives. (go ahead, think whatever you will of the fact that my children now reside out of state. i promise, you will not be thinking anything that i have not said out loud to myself on numerous occassions. all i ask is that until you have been exactly where i am, please do not judge me. but, you will. i know. because i would, too. human nature, or something like that. it's hard to put yourself completely in someone else's shoes. for that, i forgive you in advance. proceed with your judgement... just proceed with your reading, as well.)
before they left, i awoke every morning to the sound of my youngest son crying. once he was fed, changed, and put back to bed i would crawl back into my own bed only to be awakened again a mere twenty or so minutes later to the sound of the alarm clock. the next sound i would here was the sound of my daughter grumbling. she is not such a morning person. my older son, my sweet baby boy, would sleepily begin telling me about his dreams. usually about monsters, but he was never scared. in his dreams, he played with the monsters. i love that boy so much. i could have five more sons, but he will always be my baby boy.
the rest of my day would be filled with the sound of the baby laughing, crying, "talking" (uh-oh, another "me")... the telephone ringing... whatever is on E! as background noise. rarely the vaccuum cleaner. i'm not a huge fan of housework. and then there was the constant "click, click, click"ing of the computer as i do my seemingly neverending schoolwork.
then 3:40 came and the sound of the children rushing in the door, the dog barking, the tales of their day at school, whether my baby boy "got a green" or a red that day (green is good... for the record), why -insert name of my daughter's crush- talked to -insert name of random girl in her class- during recess instead of her... the "mama, can i"s, the "mama, look what he/she did!"s.... these are my "noises".
someone once came to my home while my children were running around playing... being loud. (being children) and said "do they have to make so much noise?!? is all of that really necessary?" so i told the children to keep the noise level down; to be quiet while she-who-shall-remain-nameless was there.
i wish i hadn't.
it's so quiet now. 3:40 comes and goes. no bus. no children rushing in the door. no tattling. no complaints over what's for dinner. no one to request the toy to be put in their thursday night happy meal, even though they've been told repeatedly they just put whatever toy they have in there.... you don't get to choose.
no more "you're the best mommy in the world. i mean it." coming from my daughter, followed by a giant hug.
no more "i love you bigger than a million trees." coming from my son, followed by a snotty-nosed kiss.
skype and cell phones are great, but they don't take the place of the "real thing".
the children will be back in may.
the baby talks more and more every day, almost as if he's trying to fill the empty silence left by his brother and sister.
most of my friends enjoy their peace and quiet. i dread it.
my home is where the noise is.