Please *don't* be quiet

I complain far too much about noise in my house.  True confession.  I have a husband and three teenagers.  I should not expect it to be zen-like around here.  I know this somewhere in my head, but usually I can't hear my head thinking because well,  it's too noisy in here.  I have a tapper, a drummer,  a 'beatbox sounding mouth noise maker'.  Then we have your usual humming and whistling.  Meanwhile in the kitchen we have crinkling bags, and more crinkling bags and cupboards shutting  and dishes clanking.  Then there's the crunchy chip chewing.  Don't even get me started on that.  I need earplugs when the nachos come out to play. Oh and we musn't forget the favorite fork.  The favorite fork that must be used by one of my offspring every time they eat.  Of course said fork is never on the top of the stack of (perfectly good) other forks so we wake up China while rummaging to the bottom of the drawer.  Every. Single. Meal. 

So I had the house all to myself this past Saturday.  All day.  Until 11:00 pm.  RH was out of town, kids were at a retreat.  And wow....it was quiet.  Almost zen-like.  Did I like it?  Yes.  Did I love it? No.  Believe me I'm still shocked by this new found revelation.  I was reminded how much the noise in my life represents all the good things in my life.  Happy, healthy, hungry people.  A family that enjoys hanging out together. Why do I always think it needs to be so doggone quiet anyway?  So I'm going to embrace the noise of the happy people I live with and be thankful they are here to chew in my ear.  I might hide that stupid fork though.