Super Sonic Hearing

About a year ago I asked a few moms, "If you could have one super power, what would it be?" Disappointingly, they couldn't answer. What? No ideas? I knew what I'd want. Super Speed. Get everything done fast, fast, fast. And drag my kids along with me. Get dressed! Clean your rooms! Pick up that stuff! Fast, fast, fast!

 Okay, so maybe I wouldn't be such a great mom with my super speed, but think of all the things I'd get done!

Unfortunately,  I have instead received the power of super irritability. Words like "seething" or "grating" or "grinding" sum up the feeling in my head most mornings. My son's homework this week was to find words that start with "cr".  Cranky, crusty, crappy and cracked all came to mind. And then I said "butt crack" and we both burst out laughing and he spit out his spaghetti.

 My mother thinks it might be a reaction to my medication. "Maybe it's causing my clothes to shrink, too!" I said to Mr. Man. He looked at me, and then turned back to his laptop. No comment. 

I realized this week that one of the triggers of my new super irritability is super sonic hearing. I hear everything.  I hear every cupboard door opening, every crumb dropped on the floor, and I hear every time the dog wags his tail, licks his paws, or makes the tick-tick-tick of his nails on the linoleum.  And I can hear the sounds of my children at night.  When they were infants, or if they are sick, then I would be relieved to have heard their cries.  But not when it's the sound of the song Staying Alive with the wrong lyrics.

Most of my girlfriends know my seven-year-old son sings himself to sleep.  There have been several women's nights at our house when we pause, look at the ceiling, and listen to his rendition of some rock song made over by Veggie Tales.  Unfortunately, this continues again in the early morning when he wakes up, but wants to go back to sleep.  At 5:30 in the morning.

So with my super sonic hearing triggering my super irritability, perhaps you can imagine how my morning could start.

But instead, Mr. Man bought me a humidifier.  The soft purring of that humidifier, while softening my palate and moistening the air of our room, blocks out the sound of a certain someone singing at five thirty in the morning, thereby saving his life from my jumped up super nerves, [er, powers].  AND I DON'T EVEN HEAR THE DOG!

So tonight as I tuck my sing-songy boy into bed and skip down the steps to my couch, the dog runs for it to his basement crate, and the cat sails away through her cat door.  It is quiet time for mommy.  I hear the soundtrack of the Scooby-Doo movie being sung from upstairs, but I curl up on the couch, reach for my book, and sigh.  With a quick twist of a button, all I can hear are the turning of novel pages, the sipping of tea and the gentle whirring of my humidifier.

NOW DON'T ANYBODY CALL!