Kallan got up early and found me sipping my coffee on the couch. Mark was on a conference call . . . what is it about conference calls that makes everybody use their giant deep voices? Impossible to think when someone is sitting right next to you using his giant deep voice to talk to a room of invisible noisy people.
It’s like a contest . . . “I have a thought on that, and I will use my deepest and manliest voice to make that point.”
And then a deeper response from the other end of the line, “I think I know what you are saying, but you are incorrect because my voice is even deeper and more manly than yours.”
And then Mark leans back in his chair, crosses his hands behind his neck, and speaks from a gravelly well’s bottom, “Yes, well . . . I would concede the point, except your voice is so high and girly when compared to mine.”
Snort.
So I retreat to the couch and sip my coffee.
Where Kallan finds me. Curls up into me, still loose and boneless from sleep.
We listen together.
You know how when you are sitting at a red light and a car pulls up next to you? A car playing a song on its stereo system? But you can’t actually hear the song . . . instead you hear (or more accurately . . . feel) the vibrations of the too-exaggerated bass notes?
It is like that. Soothing in an unintelligible sub-woofer sort of way.
Kallan pulls in closer, melting into my empty spaces.
I love when that happens.
I am feeling better this morning.
Yesterday, I was so tired.
Yesterday, I sat on the couch in the basement for a bit in the early evening hours. And then slipped sideways. Not sleeping, but not happy about being awake.
And Maj found me.
Maj’s schedule has been nothing but disrupted lately. She loves visitors, but they exhaust her. She curled up into the space beside me.
We laid together.
The sound of music tickled from upstairs . . . we couldn’t hear the song, but the high-pitched and bouncy nature of the rhythm suggested it was a Kallan choice. Maj was loose and pliant with sleepiness. She pulled in closer, melting into my empty spaces.
I love when that happens.
We laid together, listening and melting.
And then? The song changed and I caught a few notes . . . Kim Wilde’s Kids of America.
We’re the kids of America! Whoa-Oh!
And the sound of an accompanying high-pitched voice sang along, ringing out on the Whoa-Oh!
Maj and I realize in the same instant that the singer?
Is not Kallan. It’s Mark.
Maj’s body shook against mine as she giggled.
“That’s Daddy!”
I shook with laughter as well, “I know! Shhhh . . . listen!”
We’re the kids in America.
Whoa-Oh!
We’re the kids in America.
Whoa-Oh!
Everybody live for the music-go-round!
And we laughed together, all helpless and teary, burying our faces in one another’s shoulders to stifle the sound. Shushing one another so we could hear Mark singing all high and girly. . . and then collapsing into gleeful giggles again.
Back to Kallan and I on the couch this morning.
All melty.
Mark’s voice humming low in the background.
Kallan is talking about the mom of one of her old friends, talking about that mom’s voice.
I pull out of my reverie and focus.
“ . . . and so I never liked to go to her house because her mom always sounded so angry. Like even when she was saying something happy? She sounded like she didn’t mean it and like there was all angry and mad underneath. And so all I could hear was the bad stuff underneath. And her smile was fakey to me, like it was hiding what her face wanted to look like. She handed me a cookie one time, and I didn’t want to take it because it felt like she didn’t want to give it to me. Like something was wrong.”
I kiss the top of Kallan’s head, “Sometimes grown-ups have layers. And sometimes the layers underneath are not as happy as the ones they show the rest of the world.”
“I know that, Mom. Duh.”
Snort!
She snuggles in deeper, “But layers are not the same as fake. You don’t try to fool me with fake. I know when you and Daddy are mad and when you are happy. Even when there are layers.”
I kiss the top of her head again, “Do you now?”
“Yup.”
I sip my coffee.
She giggles, “Daddy sounds like he is covered in layers of dirt, by the way. All deep and bossy and buried.”
Maj makes her way down the stairs and into the room. Pauses. Cocks her head as she listens, “That’s Daddy’s work voice. He’s on the phone?”
Kallan and I scoot over and Maj sits on my other side.
She leans into me, “I’m still tired.”
And for a moment? I sit with both my daughters on the couch as the rumble of Mark’s voice vibrates, reassuring and musical in the air.
The combination of the sound and the silence and the closeness is overwhelming.
I am all early-morning raw and open. And my daughters? They pull in closer and melt into the empty spaces.
I love when that happens.
Oh, I could just picture the three of you on the couch, all sleep-warm and cozy and supremely loved and loving. *happy sigh and surreptitious flicking away of a tear*
Awww . . . thanks.
1) Conference calls are like the co-worker down the hall who insists on talking to everyone on speakerphone as if the loudness is supposed to equal authority.
2) I look forward to the days when the babe can come and willingly cuddle with me on the couch. Right now he is in the “doesn’t want to sit still” phase.
3) Is it bad that Kids in America makes me think of Clueless?
1) Agreed.
2) My girls are generally either moving too quickly or are too spikey and annoyed to seek out my hugs. I love their hugs all the more for their rarity.
3) Yes. Very bad.
Awesome … so incredibly sweet. Nice to remember that those kids aren’t ALWAYS fighting and whining and sassy!
Yes, the crazy crabby moments of sass?
Those are way fun to write about.
But there are also quiet lovely moments.
I like to switch it up once in a while.
And so do my daughters.
I’ve gone back over the past couple months and read all your archives. You are a fabulous writer, so vivid, funny, often biting, and yet often tender. This post has perhaps been my favourite so far, and made me yearn for my mother so badly it ached. I’m far away, in another country. I called her. It was good.
Thank you.
That is lovely, archive reader for whom I have deep love.
Just lovely.
I need to call my mom.
Such a lovely visual. Also the most hilarious description of conference calls ever written.
Thank you!
Mark says to me, “You don’t need to leave the room, you know.”
But I so do. I would be all giggling and snorting in the background.
He would hate that.
Snort!
Those are the best moments ever.
Now, moving on to conference calls…he does the conference call on speaker phone? One of my largest office pet peeves (I have to clarify office, because I have so many pet peeves…I’m just one big ball of irritation at the hands of other people) is when people use speaker phone instead of holding the handset. Partly because of the “big booming voice” contest.
And another irritation of mine? The booming bass in a vehicle near me. It hurts my ears.
Aren’t I just a joy today?
He was using Skype this morning . . . without the video component.
And you are always a joy.
While I revel in the sweetness of you and girls sharing these moments together, my favourite part of this is Mark’s singing and you and Maj giggling. Priceless!
We are like one of those credit card commercials.
Priceless.
Hee hee!
Being a witness (of sorts) to the intense love that you have for your daughters is a gift for which I will never be able to adequately thank you.
This post has left me all warm inside.
I love when that happens.
Me too.
So much.
I want to snuggle. With my kids that is, but if you would like to snuggle with me, I’m okay with that, too.
Just sayin…
PS–I love your girls. Love.
You are feeling snuggly?
How’s that WordPress.org thing going?
Much love.
The .org thing is killing me. That’s why I’m needing some cuddle time. With you. Specifically.
I am not the patient type so when they support me to “give it a few hours” I want to gouge out my eyeballs. Or snuggle.
Is it fixed now?
Now?
Now?
How about now?
I am not patient either.
At all.
It’s aliiiiiive! Can’t figure out how to get an image in the header but there’s always tomorrow…I guess.
It’s always a day away, you know.
Tomorrow, I mean.
Snugly is good.
Mark’s conference call voice is funny. It’s hard when I am on a call like that and all the other voices are loud and booming. And I am all high pitched because that is just how I sound.
Mark cracks me up.
In real life and on the phone.
Happy sighs.
My puddle is not a puddle any longer.
He is 14. He is as tall as me…almost.
He has bony knees and a cracking voice.
And he will still hug me when I ask…but…he has outgrown the melt-into-mom stage.
I still remember the very last time he shuffled up to me in an overly non-chalant way and asked, “Can I have a cuddle?”
It was two years ago.
Now I’m sniffling.
AUGH!
I do not want to hear of some future time when they never want to snuggle.
It is already rarer than it used to be.
I am not listening to you.
I am sticking my fingers in my ears.
LALALALALALALALALALALALALA . . .
I love how visual your posts are. I spend most of my time hating how fast the time is taking the baby away from me, but your posts like this? Make me excited for what is to come. Actually, even the sass posts make me grin with expectancy that my son will probably be sassy like his mom. Bring it.
All kidding aside?
My daughters are my life.
Their sassy intelligence, as frustrating as it sometimes is?
Delights my heart.
I love them beyond measure.
Those melty moments are the best. I didn’t appreciate it enough when Boo was a baby. He’s a semi-cuddly kid, with me at least, but I try to soak up those moments as much as I can now.
And the deep, booming, conference call man voice? Is totally true. LoL I hate conference calls. I just can’t pull off a manly enough voice.
I hate conference calls, although it is true that I am rarely called upon to make them anymore.
They are so stupidly competitive and mannish in nature.
My dad is the same way about conference calls except instead of a deep voice? He just gets super loud. And his calls are all at 5 in the morning. So at 5 in the morning in this paper house? I get to listen to my dad shout on the phone. And since he is the boss? He is often the one talking while his employees listen, so we don’t get much of a break. Men are so silly with their business voices.
I know! It’s like part of the costume of work.
That’s what the girls call Mark’s business suits, by the way.
Work costumes.
Snort.
When my kids melt into me like that, it’s like they’re giving me a little glimpse into the babies they used to be. So rare and so wonderful.
I’m all weepy now. So, so glad that you’re feeling better. Much love to you.
Thank you.
And much love back to you.
Much love.