Babble

Taking care of four little kids under the age of 8 is no small task, even for Marilyn. In her former career, she'd always been ultra-efficient and capable, but these 4 miniature "employers" were challenging, even for her.

She'd been at the top of her game when she surprised everyone by retiring to start a family. With her first baby, she was an easy mom - lounging on the floor reading with him, playing with blocks when he got a little older. She'd made that kind of time for "number two" as well. But, somewhere along the line, and without her even realizing it, she began running her children more like a business and less like the mommy she'd started out to be.

There were schedules, deadlines, prioritized tasks...spontaneity was a thing of the past, lest chaos reign! Or so she believed. Go, go, go. They were always in the car going somewhere. Her smallest, Eve, got dragged everywhere; to Kevin's soccer practice, Mitchell's piano lesson, Kelly's dance class.

Poor little Eve. She was a fixture, back there in her car seat, babbling away as her siblings slid the minivan door open and shut, open and shut, open and shut. Everyone chattered around her. Marilyn, found it impossible to focus, with everyone talking to each other all at once. So she just let their voices wash over her. Especially Eve's, since she was too young to talk.

It was a Wednesday afternoon, and Marilyn had dropped off the last kid before racing to the market. What nutritious dinner would she whip up tonight?

Why did all their activities have to converge on Wednesdays? Hump day, indeed. Marilyn sighed as she lifted Eve from the car and seated her in the shopping cart. She always kissed her whenever she did this. Every time she lifted her in or out of the car seat, she kissed those silky cheeks. Those were their rare moments to quietly enjoy each other.

Eve gurgled and cooed while Marilyn distractedly responded with the occasional "Mm hmm" or a "that's right, sweetie" - offering meaningless acknowledgment as she read labels & tried to remember her chicken cacciatore recipe in her head.

As she was leaning over the mushrooms, she heard Eve say, "Apple!" It was clear as a bell. "Apple!" Eve repeated. Marilyn glanced up to see Eve pointing at something. Following her outstretched arm and finger, Marilyn turned to see... apples, on the other side of the produce department. She was stunned. When did Eve learn to say apple? Did she just say it now? Was it her first word? Apple? Babies don't say "apple" before "mama" and "dada," do they?

She turned back at Eve, who was lit up like a Big Bird night light, and hugged her. "Yes, baby! That's an apple. Here," she handed Eve a zucchini, but realized she was getting ahead of herself and put it back, "Wait, here," she handed Eve a lime. "Can you say 'lime'?"

"Lime!" Eve shouted, completely pleased with herself.

Marilyn didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so she decided to do both. Had she been more tuned in, more present, she might have noticed Eve talking before now. And come to think of it, what were her other children saying? How much of their music had she missed?

That night, after pizza, they all sat on the floor and played...and talked...and Marilyn listened to every word.