I'm in the laundry room with the washer and dryer going, the low hum of the computer, and the radio on, but I can still hear Joel in the other room. As a Mommy, I'm told I have great hearing (though my husband says it's selective). I can hear the difference between a frustrated outburst and a playful lion from 20 yards. I can hear the silence that is a child rummaging through the bathroom cabinets behind a closed door. I can hear toddler footsteps from the other end of the house. And I know when they're in my pantry first thing in the morning foraging because I'm still in bed too weary to feed them breakfast... at 6:15am.
However, I wish I could only hear my 3 1/2 month old (who needs to poop) cry. Instead, my whole body lurches in pain. It's the pain you feel when you see someone you love with a significant wound. It happens when my husband, a general contractor, comes home with a granite induced bruised shin or a gash on his hand. That's Mommy's pain when baby is crying uncontrollably. It makes me want to go running and screaming through the streets. Maybe that would provide some release.
Today instead of freaking out - because of the good example my husband set by not losing his temper even though I left the soaker hose on all night and it broke spewing water in the yard for probably hours - I'll hum "I need Thee every hour" as I fold a few more clothes and plan dinner.