I love my kids. I really do. But at what point did they decide that everything must be done at full volume?
Talking? Loud.
Laughing? Louder.
Gaming? Absolutely deafening.
There is no such thing as an "inside voice" in this house. My teenagers communicate exclusively in shouts, even when they’re right next to each other. I’ve witnessed a conversation from opposite ends of the couch that could have been heard three houses down.
And don’t get me started on video games. I don’t know who this “Dude” is, but apparently, he needs to “BRO, LOOK OUT” at a volume that makes my eardrums vibrate. Also, I have learned that when a teenager yells “LET’S GO!” it is not because they’re actually going anywhere—it just means something exciting happened on their screen.
Music? Oh, that’s just played at a level where I don’t hear the bass so much as feel it shaking the walls. And heaven forbid I ask them to turn it down—then I get the look. You know the one. The dramatic, “Wow, I can’t believe I live in this oppressive environment where I can’t blast my playlist at concert-level decibels” look.
I used to think I wanted a lively home filled with laughter. Turns out, I just want some peace and quiet. Maybe some soundproof walls. Or noise-canceling headphones. Or a vacation.
Until then, I’ll just be in my room, whispering to myself and wondering how my house became a live-action rock concert.