Parenting can feel like a constant assault on the senses. It all begins with the intense pain of childbirth and the overwhelming fatigue that follows. Your taste buds are sidelined as you focus on getting your little one to eat, leaving you to gobble down cold, unappetizing meals after finally getting the kids to bed. Your once inviting living room transforms into a chaotic landscape dominated by toys, completely disregarding any aesthetic preferences you may have had. Your sense of smell sharpens, alerting you to various odors that signal impending car sickness. And let’s not even get started on the new tactile experiences—like that unforgettable moment when my son decided to have a “bathroom accident” in the tub. I turned to my partner, aghast, and asked, “Was it at least one solid piece?” He grimly responded, “I think every texture was represented.”
Yet, what I find most challenging to cope with is the relentless noise.
Take our local park, for instance, where my toddler has taken to dragging a pail along a one-foot concrete wall surrounding a sandbox. The sound is a dreadful mix between a car bumper scraping asphalt and the piercing wail of a dentist’s drill. Each scrape sends me diving for my ears, interrupting any chance of adult conversation on the nearby bench. Honestly, if given a choice between listening to that racket or the sound of a wood chipper processing human remains, I might just volunteer to help with the latter.
When we discuss the trials of parenting, we often focus on issues like insufficient family leave, sleepless nights, feeding struggles, and bedtime drama. While these are crucial topics, rarely do we mention the cacophony that starts with midnight cries from infants and extends to the obnoxious “musical” toys that relatives love to gift. (Money would make a far more peaceful present, wouldn’t it?)
One recent noise challenge I’ve been battling is the kitchen chairs. My 2-year-old’s favorite pastime is to “create a train,” which involves pushing the chairs away from the table and lining them up. The result? An unbearable screeching noise reminiscent of an out-of-tune trumpet and a dental clean-up tool combined. I’ve tried using felt pads on the chair legs, but our worn-out floor just won’t cooperate, so there’s always at least one chair leg dragging noisily across the wood. As I juggle ladles and half-chopped vegetables, my son’s chair-pushing antics leave me startled, my fingers flying to my ears, exclaiming, “Ughhh, that is far too loud!”
I find myself uttering “that is too loud” at least 40 times a day, and it leaves me feeling awful. My two young boys need to run around, play, and be joyful. They often invent raucous games—like pretending to be hyperactive squirrels or creating laughter at the dinner table by scraping their forks through mashed potatoes, which, naturally, results in more noise.
I’m aware I have a heightened sensitivity to sound. I sometimes suspect I might even have hyperacusis, a condition that makes certain frequencies unbearable. Sounds like the combination of “scrape” and “high-pitched squeal” can literally bring me to my knees. I’ve learned to carry earplugs everywhere—public transport, concerts, even at home. However, I genuinely dislike this aspect of myself. I wish the world were quieter and that my children didn’t seem to have a knack for discovering new decibel levels. Most of all, I wish I weren’t so sensitive to noise. It makes me feel tense and anxious when I snap at the dinner table, “That’s too loud!” My grandmother was famously noise-sensitive, and I distinctly remember being cautious about moving a chair for fear of upsetting her. I don’t want my kids to feel they must tiptoe around me. They’re young, after all, and if they’re joyfully playing at the dinner table, I hate to dampen their spirits with complaints.
But this is the reality we face. Each of us has our quirks that we must learn to navigate, much like unexpected bathtub incidents. Perhaps there’s a silver lining to this: my kids might just have bright futures ahead—as librarians.
To explore more about managing family dynamics, check out this helpful guide on infertility resources, or consider the benefits of fertility boosters for those on a journey to parenthood. And if you’re looking to find a bit of peace amid the chaos, discover how to bring harmony to your life with insights from our blog about finding a mute button.
Summary
Parenting is a sensory overload, filled with challenges like noise that often goes unaddressed. From the chaos of toddlers to the struggle of finding peace amidst the clamor, parents navigate their unique hurdles with humor and resilience. Each family dynamic is distinct, and while noise can be overwhelming, it also brings joy and laughter into our lives.