Can you hear them now? Yeah, I thought so.

Originally published on DC Metro Moms, 3/24/10:

I'm sorry, but if you're talking to me, chances are I can't hear you. Well, at least if we're in the general vicinity of any of my children, that is.  I have birthed three of the potentially loudest little human beings on this planet.  There is no conversation conducted at a normal volume. No song sung together at a reasonable level.  No disagreement that is resolved in a regular tone of voice. It's as if their only settings are loud, louder, and for the love of God, my ears are bleeding! 
 
It's as simple as this: they are descendants of loud people.  Just as a few particular physical characteristics are passed down in excess, apparently vocal amplification is a genetic trait among my people.  Just ask my husband, who has been privy to an insider's view of gatherings of my large extended family.  Like Jane Goodall, he has sat on the edge of the group, marveling at the dynamics of the group, their hierarchies, their relationships, and their unique way of communicating solely through raised voices.  According to him, my own voice instantaneously raises whenever I get on the phone with my mother.  I swear that I am unaware of this supposed phenomenon, but even I do have to concede that, at times, I may speak in a louder tone than average folk.

So what can a loud mom do about her loud children, besides pass out complimentary earplugs to her court of townhouse neighbors?  I find myself starting the day with a few calmly stated rounds of "Please remember to use your inside voice, sweetie."  These attempts at being a good role model eventually give way to a series of 'whisper-shouts' through semi-clenched teeth of "Guys, c'mon!  Lower your voices, please!"  Which, of course, inevitably lead to the full out hollering of "Will you guys stop yelling at each other already!"  Yup.  I shout at my children to stop shouting.  I'm still waiting for a parenting magazine to call me for my secrets.

The upsides?  I can always find my children on a crowded playground.  I am fairly confident that I overhear everything they ever say to each other, with the combination of their supersonic voices and our small house, so they won't be getting one over on me anytime soon.  Also, the neighbors must have become so accustomed to the regular volume level emanating from our home that the nine-year-old's evening baritone horn practices haven't made them blink an eye.

Just a tip, though.  If you call me during the waking hours of my brood, please be prepared to speak up.  I've got my phone on the highest level, but it's as if you're barely whispering over the din.


This is an original DC Metro Moms post. 

Dawn blogs nonsense about her family at my thoughts exactly, and tries to sound intelligent when she reviews books at 5 Minutes for Books.