The Weekend at Mum's

"Are we there yet? Are we there yet? How much longer? I'm getting bored. It's too hot in the car. I wish I could open my window. Did we bring any toys?"

It's a two hour car ride from here to my mum and dad's house in Mt. Forest. I was riding with my sister and her husband and their two young children.

"Can I take my shoes off? My feet are hot. Jason is kicking my seat. STOP IT, JASON! I'm telling."

Finally, Jill couldn't bear it another minute. She lost her temper.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE, DALE. SHUT UP!"

Well that didn't happen, Ms J. But it's a good story. I like stories.

Actually, the ride to and from Mum and Dad's was quite relaxing. The kids were amazing! Jason is two and a half. His sister, Erin, is four and a half. Jason slept most of the trip, while Erin chatted happily with her mum. It was enjoyable, really. The weather was lovely, the scenery pleasant. In no time it seemed, we'd arrived.

Mum and Dad are always glad to see us. Any of us. All of us. I have four sisters and a brother, each with his or her own tribe of kids and spouse. Only Jill and June and I were there this weekend. The other three had prior commitments. Jill and her twin sister, June are my closest sisters. Being the three youngest, we kind of grew up together after the others had left the nest. June and her husband, Rob, have two little ones as well. Shauna is six, I think. Her brother Ryan is five. So there were four kids at mum's. Four little kids - aged six, five, four and two and a half. It was noisy at times.

I'd forgotten how noisy kids can be. Once upon a time, I had kids of my own. Little ones. I'm sure they were noisy too. But they're not anymore, Ms J. Little or noisy. I really discovered (or perhaps confirmed) my aversion to noise.

I seemed to be the only one bothered by it. Dad's half deaf and Mum loves them no matter how much noise they make. The parents of the noisemakers, meanwhile, seemed more or less oblivious to the din. I guess you get used to it until eventually you don't even notice it. I noticed it, though.

I don't mean to imply that it was continuous and unbearable. It wasn't. Indeed, most of the time, the four cacophonous cousins played outside. But when they were inside, and full of pith and vinegar, it was disruptive, to put it mildly.

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Ryan, Jason, Shauna, Erin. Four dillies, all daffy. 

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On Sunday morning, I was standing at the kitchen counter, buttering toast for the hoards that would soon descend for breakfast. It was not yet 8:00 and the kids had already been awake for more than an hour. They were chasing each other through the kitchen and screaming.

"Hey!" I hollered. "Keep it down, eh? It's too early for that kind of racket."

Mum was sympathetic.

"I guess you don't hear noise like that in your kitchen in the morning, do you Dale?"

I held up a piece of warm toast and gently painted it yellow with butter.

"Hear that?" I asked. "That's as loud as it gets in MY morning kitchen."