I just can't be quiet
Discussion
At my wedding in 2001 my best man (standing to my left) declared to the Polish audience (translated by my wife, standing to my right) that the theme of my life was noise and speed. The cars-thing is the obvious explanation for speed, and actually the type of car that brought me to places like PH, the noise. Being a drummer also played a part in one of them.
But little did he know that I simply **can't** be quiet. I just can't.
My kids are asleep, and are quite light sleepers. It takes a while to put them to sleep when they wake up at night (wake one, and the other wakes - the cascade effect can be quite depressing when you've just put one to sleep and the other shouts) so you can imagine me tip-toeing around my house.
Thing is, I'm built like a hippo, with about as much grace as one on dry land.
Tonight's sequence of events couldn't be more tragic.
Son wakes with a nightmare. I attend as quickly as I can to stop the crying before daughter wakes up from his noise. Half way up the stairs I trip, landing face down on a very large carrier bag of toys which proceed to bounce down the stairs. Most of the toys had built-in bells, chimes, rattles and other efficiently-noisy items.
Both kids wide awake.
Some-time later (feels like an hour) I'm creeping down the stairs, now clear of obstacles thanks to my taking the time to sort out the toy-mountain whilst everyone else was screaming. The stairs creak under my not-inconsiderable weight but I get away without waking anyone until...
... I reach the halfway landing (our stairs turn 180 degrees 1/3rd of the way up) where my feet manage to find the only toy I'd managed to miss when tidying up earlier, bringing me down the last 1/3rd of the stairs mostly on my side, head, shoulder and finger (which I no longer think is broken).
I muffled a pained scream but Fisher Price's loudest train for under-3s proceeds down the hall towards the lounge, sort of underlining the previous 3 seconds of hilarity in case anyone might have missed it.
Unfortunately no-one missed it.
Another (what felt like) hour later, and with all obstacles cleared out of the way (double checked), and with my retreat carefully plotted, I make it to the kitchen where I decide to try for a small snackette to accompany a calming glass of wine. The plan was this:
1. Make sandwich
2. Quietly
3. Go into lounge
4. Quietly
5. Eat sandwich
6. Even I can't eat loudly enough to wake children.
Unfortunately the following happened:
1. Reached for the bread in the freezer and only slightly touched the packaging before I become aware of a loud rattling noise that seemed as though it was coming from all directions. The frozen peas had upturned in their packet and had targeted the loudest component for miles around to fall onto (the freezer floor).
2. After a quick tidy, I went for the Flora which slipped out of my hand, taking the pickle with it.
3. After mopping up the pickle and Flora, and spending an age dust-pan/brushing the broken pickle jar glass up (the vacuum would have been too loud) I managed to find myself with defrosted bread, useable Flora, some salami, cheese and an unbroken jar of mustard. These items came together without further incident into a satisfying sandwich. Satisfying-looking anyway.
4. During my seemingly-innocuous journey from the kitchen to the lounge with sandwich in hand (on a plate), I decided to chance my luck by carrying something in my other hand. Not normally a tricky manoeuvre but the item in question was the aforementioned glass of wine which only got as far as the door between the kitchen and lounge before the door handle reached out and flicked the glass out of my hand spilling wine all over myself, the dining room carpet and the dining table. It's quite amazing how far it can go. Anyway, even as I watched the ensuing disaster unfold, my body decided the situation was recoverable and over-reacted, literally throwing my just-completed sandwich across the room. The wine glass landed unbroken but as I watched the sandwich fly towards the stereo, I stepped forward, actually *believing* I could catch it (I couldn't have, even if I could move like Superman), and stepped onto the wine glass, crushing it into the carpet.
In all of this stupidity I can only thank God I was wearing something on my feet.
The kids are asleep again and the dining room is roped off until the morning, sort of like a crime scene.
But little did he know that I simply **can't** be quiet. I just can't.
My kids are asleep, and are quite light sleepers. It takes a while to put them to sleep when they wake up at night (wake one, and the other wakes - the cascade effect can be quite depressing when you've just put one to sleep and the other shouts) so you can imagine me tip-toeing around my house.
Thing is, I'm built like a hippo, with about as much grace as one on dry land.
Tonight's sequence of events couldn't be more tragic.
Son wakes with a nightmare. I attend as quickly as I can to stop the crying before daughter wakes up from his noise. Half way up the stairs I trip, landing face down on a very large carrier bag of toys which proceed to bounce down the stairs. Most of the toys had built-in bells, chimes, rattles and other efficiently-noisy items.
Both kids wide awake.
Some-time later (feels like an hour) I'm creeping down the stairs, now clear of obstacles thanks to my taking the time to sort out the toy-mountain whilst everyone else was screaming. The stairs creak under my not-inconsiderable weight but I get away without waking anyone until...
... I reach the halfway landing (our stairs turn 180 degrees 1/3rd of the way up) where my feet manage to find the only toy I'd managed to miss when tidying up earlier, bringing me down the last 1/3rd of the stairs mostly on my side, head, shoulder and finger (which I no longer think is broken).
I muffled a pained scream but Fisher Price's loudest train for under-3s proceeds down the hall towards the lounge, sort of underlining the previous 3 seconds of hilarity in case anyone might have missed it.
Unfortunately no-one missed it.
Another (what felt like) hour later, and with all obstacles cleared out of the way (double checked), and with my retreat carefully plotted, I make it to the kitchen where I decide to try for a small snackette to accompany a calming glass of wine. The plan was this:
1. Make sandwich
2. Quietly
3. Go into lounge
4. Quietly
5. Eat sandwich
6. Even I can't eat loudly enough to wake children.
Unfortunately the following happened:
1. Reached for the bread in the freezer and only slightly touched the packaging before I become aware of a loud rattling noise that seemed as though it was coming from all directions. The frozen peas had upturned in their packet and had targeted the loudest component for miles around to fall onto (the freezer floor).
2. After a quick tidy, I went for the Flora which slipped out of my hand, taking the pickle with it.
3. After mopping up the pickle and Flora, and spending an age dust-pan/brushing the broken pickle jar glass up (the vacuum would have been too loud) I managed to find myself with defrosted bread, useable Flora, some salami, cheese and an unbroken jar of mustard. These items came together without further incident into a satisfying sandwich. Satisfying-looking anyway.
4. During my seemingly-innocuous journey from the kitchen to the lounge with sandwich in hand (on a plate), I decided to chance my luck by carrying something in my other hand. Not normally a tricky manoeuvre but the item in question was the aforementioned glass of wine which only got as far as the door between the kitchen and lounge before the door handle reached out and flicked the glass out of my hand spilling wine all over myself, the dining room carpet and the dining table. It's quite amazing how far it can go. Anyway, even as I watched the ensuing disaster unfold, my body decided the situation was recoverable and over-reacted, literally throwing my just-completed sandwich across the room. The wine glass landed unbroken but as I watched the sandwich fly towards the stereo, I stepped forward, actually *believing* I could catch it (I couldn't have, even if I could move like Superman), and stepped onto the wine glass, crushing it into the carpet.
In all of this stupidity I can only thank God I was wearing something on my feet.
The kids are asleep again and the dining room is roped off until the morning, sort of like a crime scene.
Edited by Mars on Friday 24th April 23:22
Naah, wife's in. She started off in bed but came to my rescue when I took out the toys, tutting the entire time. She stayed in bed when I subsequently went for the 1/3rd staircase suicide stunt, only cursing me from her bed when I eventually crawled upstairs to calm the kids again. And I think she was wearing earplugs by the time I decided to spread glass and (what looks like) blood all over the dining room.
I am going to guess she will be as unimpressed with the mess as she will be unsurprised in the morning.
I am going to guess she will be as unimpressed with the mess as she will be unsurprised in the morning.
From about 16 I was blessed with parents whose primary rule was 'I don't care what time you come in just don't you dare bloody well wake me up'
Consequently I've developed cat-like abillities to move around a house at night performing task in near silence.
I can open and close (even squeaky) doors in utter silence. I can cook toast in total silence too apart from the pinking of the toaster as it heats or cools.
I can walk stairs in near silence so long as I've walked them once before and know where the squeaky stairs are.
A rare a treasured skill I'm sure you'll agree, on top of which I'm blessed with a son who could sleep through a MotorHead concert!
Consequently I've developed cat-like abillities to move around a house at night performing task in near silence.
I can open and close (even squeaky) doors in utter silence. I can cook toast in total silence too apart from the pinking of the toaster as it heats or cools.
I can walk stairs in near silence so long as I've walked them once before and know where the squeaky stairs are.
A rare a treasured skill I'm sure you'll agree, on top of which I'm blessed with a son who could sleep through a MotorHead concert!
The Excession said:
From about 16 I was blessed with parents whose primary rule was 'I don't care what time you come in just don't you dare bloody well wake me up'
Consequently I've developed cat-like abillities to move around a house at night performing task in near silence.
I can open and close (even squeaky) doors in utter silence. I can cook toast in total silence too apart from the pinking of the toaster as it heats or cools.
I can walk stairs in near silence so long as I've walked them once before and know where the squeaky stairs are.
A rare a treasured skill I'm sure you'll agree, on top of which I'm blessed with a son who could sleep through a MotorHead concert!
Yet you can't master a casserole dish Consequently I've developed cat-like abillities to move around a house at night performing task in near silence.
I can open and close (even squeaky) doors in utter silence. I can cook toast in total silence too apart from the pinking of the toaster as it heats or cools.
I can walk stairs in near silence so long as I've walked them once before and know where the squeaky stairs are.
A rare a treasured skill I'm sure you'll agree, on top of which I'm blessed with a son who could sleep through a MotorHead concert!
Thing is, although my wife thinks I'm a bit clumsy, I'm not normally a serial idiot. I just can't help think that the harder I try to keep quiet, the more I over-compensate and screw up. Even as I watched the peas (I couldn't even see the bag from where they were pouring - it was deep inside one of the baskets in the freezer) I was thinking that "it's not happening to me", and "I didn't even DO anything to cause this".
Only the second thought was true though. It WAS happening to me although it wasn't my fault (although it might have been me who put them upside down in the first place I suppose).
And by the time I was walking to the lounge I was sort of chuckling to myself about the stupidity of the previous half hour even as I winced with pain because of my finger. I guess I had become cavalier about nothing else happening to me because it simply couldn't now, could it?
I could have earned money of You've Been Framed tonight. Mind you, all's not lost on that score. I haven't actually got to bed yet.
Only the second thought was true though. It WAS happening to me although it wasn't my fault (although it might have been me who put them upside down in the first place I suppose).
And by the time I was walking to the lounge I was sort of chuckling to myself about the stupidity of the previous half hour even as I winced with pain because of my finger. I guess I had become cavalier about nothing else happening to me because it simply couldn't now, could it?
I could have earned money of You've Been Framed tonight. Mind you, all's not lost on that score. I haven't actually got to bed yet.
Very funny....
Sounds like a typical bloke doing his best! Now being PH, I feel obliged to say, her indoors should have been sorting out Mars Jr's and you should have been ensconced infront of the tv with a suitable libation in your hand and not been put in this insidious position in the first place!
Sounds like a typical bloke doing his best! Now being PH, I feel obliged to say, her indoors should have been sorting out Mars Jr's and you should have been ensconced infront of the tv with a suitable libation in your hand and not been put in this insidious position in the first place!
The Moose said:
Mate, I am sure she is going to be less than impressed in the morning!!
ETA: Oh, and we would all I'm sure like a post letting us know how she gets on with your mess?!?!
It's my turn to look after the nippers as she handles that all week. Our arrangement is that I take any night-shift requirements on "non-school" nights.ETA: Oh, and we would all I'm sure like a post letting us know how she gets on with your mess?!?!
It won't make good reading in the morning. Something like "Man gets battered to death by wife's tongue".
Anyway, I've started to clear up out of sheer fear. It won't look pretty come morning, but Vanish-for-carpets will at least have had a chance to eat-up the stains.
Mars said:
Thing is, although my wife thinks I'm a bit clumsy, I'm not normally a serial idiot. I just can't help think that the harder I try to keep quiet, the more I over-compensate and screw up.
You are trying too hard! You need to visualise your self as being made from cotton wool - if you touch anythin too hard it will dent you.... softly softly slowly slowly.
Mars said:
pain ... because it simply couldn't now, could it?
Pain, that's the worst one, when you really want to let fly a whole string of expletives but you know you can't and other than that there's no point.i did a cracker last year after a friends round B--B-Q. Everyone had gone home, everyone else was in bed and I was pottering around doing some ninja cleaning.
Decided to take the bin bag out but the wheely bin was full. Not wanting the rats to get at anything I decided it was a smart move to climb up on a seat and get into the bin to push everything down a bit and make some space.
You can see where this is going can't you? After about three or four jumps I realise that I'm lying on the ground with pains all down the left hand side of my body and this really really really sharp pain coming from my right shin.
I lay there for a moment and conteplated screaming but there was no one to hear it.
So I just put the bag into the bin (there was space now) and headed in doors grabbed a beer, sat in fron t of the TV and contemplated picking up the courage to look at my shin.
I was really struggling to decide if it was blood or sweat that seemed to be filling up my boot, sure enough after a while I took a look and found a 2 inch gash in the front of my shin... all the way down to the bone... The confusion of not quite knowing whether to puke or be excited at finally seeing a bit of my own bone was the only thing that kept me together
The Excession said:
I was really struggling to decide if it was blood or sweat that seemed to be filling up my boot, sure enough after a while I took a look and found a 2 inch gash in the front of my shin... all the way down to the bone... The confusion of not quite knowing whether to puke or be excited at finally seeing a bit of my own bone was the only thing that kept me together
was it a bit like, "cool I can see my own bone, I think I'll take a picture so i can remember not to just up an down on a teetering pile or rubbish"
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