My son, Eric, is not a big talker. This came as a complete shock to me since I come from a long line of talkers. It seems like all my friends and family members love to talk (often at the same time).

My older son, Paul, began talking early and often and has basically never stopped. So, when my second son came along I just figured he would speak up, but that was not the case. First of all , I could barely hear him over his older brother’s constant demands for my (waning) attention.

While I had hung on Paul’s every word (and before that, everything resembling a word) I had a hard time really listening to poor little Eric. I am sad to say his needs were constantly unheard. While I would have pulled off the road to nurse my crying first-born it was not uncommon to wake my second son from a much-needed nap in order to do school pick-up.

Sorry, buddy.

I have always tried to understand him in the way that can only be described as a combination of love, context and wishful thinking. There was usually no doubt what he wanted. He was a consummate grunter and pointer. Not to mention the growls and screams punctuated by the giggles and belly laughs. He was never shy about asking for what he wanted and he usually got it.

But he would not talk.

At pre-school I begged them. Make him talk. Even if he is pointing at the desired item, he needs to ask for it and say please. This may be where he picked up: “MY TURN!” Followed by a (prompted) “please."

The stuff he came up with was too cute to correct. “See you later, crocodile!” And anything not “now” is “after-morrow."

But now he is four-years old. His talking becomes clearer and clearer. I can often get actual answers to my queries and I can ask him questions that require some thought. I feel like I am just beginning to get to know him now that he is expressing himself with actual words. He may never be as talkative as Paul but he gets his point across.

I may not always like what I hear but at least he is talking. And now I am listening.

By Cathy Burke

Labels: big talker, brothers, Cathy Burke, listening, older son, quiet, younger son

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My husband has taken the kids camping and left me to have a precious twenty-four hours to myself.

It is a gift.

I walked them to the SUV, gave kisses and hugs and waved as the car descended down the hill. Then I opened the gate, skipped down to the house and ran inside.

I noticed something unusual.

Quiet.

I liked the sound of it.

I checked e-mails without fear of being interrupted.

I read four stories online in The New York Times.

Four!!!

Then I felt guilty. The running To Do List in my head noted we were out of everything: paper towels, napkins and, perhaps more importantly, dinosaur chicken nuggets, my daughter’s sole source of protein. It looked like I’d have to go to Costco.

Just the thought made me tired so I decided to take a nap -- because for once, I could. As I walked to the sofa, a thought occurred to me – you’ve been given a present – open it.

Costco could wait. Suddenly, I was no longer tired, I was energized! This really could be all about ME, instead of Mimi, Jay and John.

I love them beyond human comprehension, but sometimes the requirements of family can be taxing. Sometimes, I just need time alone.

I changed course and drove to the DVD store. I luxuriously walked from one end of the store to the next without having to go to the children’s aisle first.

I could get an adult drama. Capote. I could get a comedy. The Squid and the Whale.
I felt like the little parent who could.

John had given me this gift once before. Then it was for two days. I remember the first twenty-four hours I was giddy with freedom. By the second, I couldn’t wait for them to come home.

I knew then that my single days were over. But I could pretend now.

I popped in the first DVD. With my cat curled in my lap, a blanket swathed around us, I would enjoy this private time.

By Dawn Yun

Labels: By Dawn Yun, Capote, cat, DVD, family away, free time for mom, husband, movies, quiet, THe Squid and the Whale, time alone

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My wish for the blessed mothers:

Two days in a hotel.

Velvety sheets, gourmet room service.

A stack of books to inspire or distract. Ratio as desired: two trashy, 1 poetry, 1 heartbreaking.

Time to read.

Time to write.

No need for clothes with zippers.

Endless warm drinks.

Quiet.

Revelatory, vexing dreams.

Quiet.

The sound of an idea popping tenderly.

Tea.

Quiet.

Naps.

Relaxed, but swiftly flowing momentum rushing joyfully to your unique North Star.

By Avvy Mar

Labels: Avvy Mar, Dreams, naps, quiet, relax, wishes

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