Each weekday morning at around 6:45 during the school year, I hear my youngest daughter's car as she comes flying from a northerly direction on the gravel road that leads to my house. Seconds later I hear the slamming of car doors and then my morning head is bombarded with little girl noises.
These are mostly argumentative noises because one of them got the other one's jacket, or purse, or lip gloss, or for no rational reason at all, but quite often there are also crying or whining noises for most of the same reasons that I've already mentioned. These are the first noises that vibrate through my sleep muddled brain before they've even reached the porch.
The noises become much, much, louder as these three girls come slamming, tumbling, tripping, through the front door and the noise registers through my brain fog as being somewhat like the screeching sound of nails down a chalk board, or the irritating buzzing noise a fly makes in your ear when you're trying to take a nap, only multiplied by a thousand or so. The noise level increases a few more levels if one, or more, of them dares to make a remark to the Terrorist, who pretty much has the same bed head every morning as I do. They taunt, he retaliates, then the fight is on.
Some days I threaten, or beg, as I inspect them to see if they've each remembered to brush their hair, or brush their teeth, but sometimes I just can't deal with the noise or the inspections so I grab my cup of coffee, a cigarette, and hide away in my office, and try to close my ears to the sounds, the noises, until the school bus comes to pick up the noise makers.
Sometimes I want to change my identity from Momma, and Nanaw and escape to some far off place where no one knows me. Then I think, I wouldn't know who I was anymore, so I guess my identity, as it is now, is better than having none.