It’s Monday morning, and I’m getting dressed for work. I am not alone. I have to get up early to have alone time. Otherwise I have a shadow named Squeezy, a shadow who could be the picture on Wikipedia for the word inquisitive. She floods me with a constant stream of questions–

Is that your dwess, Mommy? Can I wear it? Why? I climb up on your bed, Mommy. Are those your tights? They’re black. Can I have tights? I have socks. Can I jumpy jumpy on your bed? Where are your glasses? Do you have boots, Mommy? Do they have buckles? Can I have them, Mommy? Do you need to go potty? I don’t need to. Where’s Bear? Why? Is this your pillow? Is it my pillow? Is it Daddy’s pillow? Daddy’s at work! No. Daddy’s downstaiws! Do we love Daddy? Do you have a sweater, Mommy? Is it so warm and cozy? We not going to church today. No ma’am. We going to Hy-Vee. No. Are you going to work, Mommy? Mommy not need to!

On and on she goes, not noticing that I am barely answering, that I am in a fog, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep on the bed she is jumping on. She follows me into the bathroom while I comb my hair.

Is this a comb? Is that your toofbrush? Can I brush my teeth, Mommy? Why? I don’t need to go potty. That’s the baftub. Can I take a baf? Why? We don’t play in the potty. Are you combin’ your hair, Mommy? I don’t need to comb my hair.

It’s like this most of the time. She simply must know what’s going on, and she must comment on it. When we listen to music, she needs to know the name of every song.

What’s dis song, Mommy?

“I don’t know” is not an acceptable answer.

Most of the time I am just used to her chattering, and I answer her questions until I start to twitch, then I tell her to go find her brothers and play with them. I’m sure the boys really appreciate that. Her voice is just a part of the soundtrack of my life– the very loud soundtrack.


It’s Tuesday night and we’re on our way home from the store. I am listening to music (what’s dis song, Mommy?) and contemplating the joy of bedtime, which waits just inside the door of our house. From the back seat, I hear her little voice . . .

‘Cause what if Your blessings come through raindwops?
What if Your healing comes through teaws?

I sing along with her to the end of the song, and we pull into the driveway.

I like to sing with you, Mommy.

My life might have a noisy soundtrack, but it sure is a good one.


13 thoughts on “Soundtrack

  1. It’s amazing what little things can fill our kids love bucket up. Like singing in the car…It’s a beautiful soundtrack. I stopped over from Bigger Picture Blogs. Oh and I love Hy-Vee. It’s the one thing (besides my family) that I miss since we moved away from Iowa/Nebraska! πŸ™‚

  2. good one for sure!!! I have a lot of chatter from my 2 young kids these days…occasionally the chatter is TOO.MUCH but most of the time it is beauty and I remind myself I need to enjoy it while it is still here. There is something so special in the innocence of her asking. Thanks for sharing this beautiful BP Moment!!

  3. Oh, that was so lovely to read! Our girls are also big on the talking, and they require serious replies to things that I often mistakenly assume to be rhetorical or talking-to-self mutterings πŸ™‚

    Your soundtrack is just gorgeous πŸ™‚

  4. Oh, my. The tears in my eyes. Yes. I have that little shadow, too, who just keeps talking and talking … and I am so thankful for that soundtrack. Thanks for helping me remember that I am so thankful for it all.

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