Somewhere quiet and soft

Loud. It’s so loud. All around me it’s so damn LOUD. All the time. No quiet, no hushed voices, only children talking or yelling as though a field separates each of them and me.

A cacophony of voices calls my name constantly from every direction as I try to type quick notes, hold two thoughts together and attempt to make comprehendible statements that others will read later.

“Ellie I need you!”

“Ellie when will you be done?”

“Ellie, are you gonna play with me?”

“Ellie you said you were almost done!”

“ELLIE!”

“Ellie can you open my bathroom?”

“Ellie can I have a snack?”

“ELLIE I LOST MY SPECIAL NOTEBOOK!”

“Ellie I need to show you something!”

“Ellie he’s saying bad words at me again!”

“ELLIE YOU SAID YOU WERE ALMOST DONE!”

I answered every question gently and patiently while I typed, assuring everyone I would get, do, find, watch, help, listen, take care of, and play as soon as I finished .

One of my teammates kept laughing and saying all anyone ever hears on the unit is a chorus or “ELLIE!S”, and how it drives them crazy when the kids pepper them the same way they pepper me, and how am I always so calm and sweet and smiling when they know a thundering headache pounds just beneath the surface, waiting to break like a wave?

I explained that years and years of

“MOM!MOMINEEDYOU!MOM!HESBOTHERINGMEMOM!MOMHESTOUCHINGME!MOMINEEDFOOD!MOMINEEDTOBEWIPED!MOMEATCHME!MOM!!!”

have made me almost bulletproof.

Almost….. I dream longingly of someplace that is quiet and soft. All I have to do is to hold on just a little longer. Long enough to melt into my couch, stuff ear plugs in my ears and pull a mask over my eyes and pretend three dogs aren’t jumping and barking on top of me, excitedly waiting to walk in the thousand degree heat of the afternoon. Five minutes.

Five minutes alone to sleep and recharge. I only need five minutes somewhere quiet and soft. Ok. Maybe ten. Or twenty. I’ll just slip into something comfy. Half an hour tops. I swear.

Let’s be honest and just call it a night!