I've had an epiphany. My life is a symphony. OK, that
doesn't really rhyme but I was shooting for something that
would sound lyrical. I realized, quite recently, that
there are a number of predictable melodies that punctuate
my days - and nights. Here is a random sampling - and do
feel free to hum along if anything seems familiar.
"Doggie Dirge" - This wailful tune is one of the first I
hear every morning. It emanates from the Scottie/Bichon
mix that is calling out to every tree, bush and blade of
grass in the backyard as if he hasn't seen them in years.
I suspect the actual sound is created by a combination of
him crossing his legs, wagging his tail and rolling his
eyes back in his
head while wondering how long it can take someone with
only two legs to get down those back stairs and open the
door.
"Teen Daughter" - Anyone who has ever fought to wake up a
teenager on a school day probably knows this little
ditty... (sung to the tune of Mark Dinning's "Teen Angel",
minus the tragedy of the car crash,
of course)... "Teen Daughter... can you hear me? Teen
Daughter... can you see me? I'll fight your hormones for
control... now get that breakfast in the bowl!"
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Days around our house progress with the same degree of
orchestration needed to launch a Broadway production - or,
at the very least, the Space Shuttle.
I KNOW that I jump through more hoops than Shamu, move
faster than any Andretti ever has and I regularly covet
the balance and juggling abilities of Cirque du Soleil.
Unfortunately, we are not "du Soleil" caliber around
here... but we definitely have the "Circus" part
nailed. Other tunes streaming from soundtrack of my life
range from such colorful and uplifting spirituals as the
"Mom!! I wanted my OTHER Jeans" Jig and "Damn! We're out
of peanut butter" (not to be confused with the less
grocery-related Sophie B. Hawkins tune) to our rousing
tribute to Rodgers and Hammerstein, "Ohhhhhhh-verflowing...
where the water backs up from every drain."
I bet you're thinking that no one's life can be this
musical, right? I sure thought I was at my limit. Then - I
got married. Did you know that husbands are equipped with
a "Rio"??? No, mp3 players are not
genetic implants (yet). In the case of husbands, RIO is an
acronym for "Really Intense Odor." While men occasionally
deliver these odors silently, their preferred mode is to
use accompanying sound waves varying
from a delicate trill, reminiscent of a flute, to the boom
of a bass drum or a car backfire. Evidently, men think we
will forget about the noxious emissions if they package
them in a multi-CD set.
Just when you think things can't get any worse, they fall
asleep - and then comes the lullaby to which I drift off
each night. I must give my husband credit for being highly
entertaining. Apparently, he doesn't want to bore me with
a milquetoast, breathy serenade every night so he
routinely ends my day with the snoring equivalent of a
24-gun salute, a buzz-saw concerto or a herd of buffalo
stampeding through the bedroom. If I manage to actually
fall asleep, I inadvertently create the opportunity for
him to test out his Emergency Warning System. This
generally involves a sound loud enough to land me on my
feet, ready to rip our sleeping children from their beds
and throw them in the basement or bathtub in time to save
them from an impending hurricane or other disaster. Then I
realize, in the midst of my sleep-impaired panic, that HE
is sound asleep.
Reassured that we aren't under attack, I crawl back into
bed, exhausted from the rhythm and blues of another day.
As I try to fall asleep, I briefly wonder if I should burn
my life soundtrack on a CD. Then I decide that an
old-fashioned EP is the way to go... i.e., Earplugs and
Patience. It's the best way to maintain your sanity -
especially when you're married to
"Phil Harmonic."
Elaine Hunt is regularly driven to unload the humor,
sarcasm and general chaos of everyday life in the hope of
reassuring others they are not alone! Visit her at
http://thoughts2page.blogspot.com
