Birthday Silence

buy clomid in australia Last week, I celebrated a birthday. In the spirit of my new self, one that is more attentive to my own needs as opposed to giving everything I have to child and job and then collapsing into a little pile of spent-ness at night only to get up and do it again the next day, I decided on a day at the Spa with a friend. The plan didn’t quite work out as I was only able to get three hours off work – but I did spend those three hours at the Spa thinking only about me. I will call this a phenomenal win.

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I had planned for both my friend and I to get pedicures. This is a huge splurge for me as I normally don’t even consider painted nails, but the idea of someone rubbing my feet (and not having to repay the favor) won me over.  My friend, however, had other plans –  something about ozone and hair. I have no idea what she did, but her hair did look fabulous.

As I settled down for the pedicure, I realized that I was in a completely quiet room. No music. No chatter. No noise. Sensing my need for silence, the woman scrubbing and working away didn’t make a peep until 45 minutes in when she barely whispered, “What color?” The pedicure was nice. The color, fun. The silence, amazing!

You see, my daughter (3-years-old in June) has reached a new developmental stage: she sings. She sings and composes. She allows every thought in her head to spill out in song, often through a microphone given to her for her last birthday, often as loud as humanly possible, often on repeat. I love the insights I get. For example, I can now tell you the many ways she classifies her poop and the names of every person she has ever met. I can also tell you that she is deeply, deeply concerned that I am not listening to her songs.

I am. I do. I love them. I truly do. But, they only end when she sleeps. So, for one hour on my birthday, I basked in glorious silence. When I got home, I showed her my toes.  She smiled and looked at me expectantly.  “I would love to hear you sing about them, sweetheart”.  And so, she did.  Twice.


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  1. In the past, when whatever noisy and repetitive activity my kids engaged in bugged me, I would grit my teeth and think, “Someday I’ll miss this.” These days I find it more of a relief to express the truth: “This is driving me crazy!” Somehow expressing the truth creates a little more space for tolerance of the . . . um . . . “aggravating cuteness” shall we call it?

    Palpable, your appreciation of the silence. Thanks for reminding me to notice silence when it arrives in my day. And happy birthday!

    • The truth is that most moments, I really do love it. Then, there are the moments, were I need to forgive myself and seek silence so that I can return to loving being in the moment again.

  2. Love the toe nail color! And I loved reading this in my own silence. So divine.

    Happy Birthday, Clare. Wishing you many more days of you-time in the midst of your life set to song.

  3. This makes me want to get a massage. I need some pampering! (Not the Pampers kind)

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