An Open Letter to My Neighborhood

Dear Neighbours/Neighbors,

It’s summertime, our windows are open, fresh air fills our homes and we are reminded, once again, just how closely together our houses were built. Doubtlessly, you have heard extremely loud, perhaps even blood-curdling screams coming from our apartment between 5:30 and 6pm several evenings a week.

“What on earth,” you have probably asked yourselves, “is that woman doing to her children?”

The answer, really, is nothing. Well, not nothing exactly. I am probably rushing around, unloading the dishwasher and trying to make them their dinner. Usually, I try to close the windows so that the noise is somewhat muffled, but experience has taught me that the faster I get some protein into their little bellies, the faster the mood of the house will change.

You see, we are having problems with transition time. It used to be much, much worse when my little boy would have a sobbing fit whenever we had to go from home time to outside time, playtime to meal time, from meal time to washing time, and from washing time to that merciful period known as nap time.

Really, he should have outgrown this stage and for the most part he has. All that remains is this particular “end of day” exhaustion, frustration, and hunger transition. By the time I have finished work, picked up the kids and brought everyone home, both kids have fallen asleep in the car and been rudely awoken to find themselves hungry, tired and not where they remember last being.

It makes the big boy cry and, when that happens, the little one starts too. Accustomed to having his needs addressed after those of a crying baby, the boy starts yelling louder as soon as his sister starts. In turn, sensing an escalation in the gravity of the situation, the girl turns her volume up to maximum until we have the cacophony you have no doubt heard.

While I do try to pat them on their backs and speak soothing words of comfort in a quiet voice, they really can’t hear me and seem immune to a soft touch while tensing their muscles to scream.

It’s not all bad. In fact, if you’d like to view this interruption as a service we provide, you can use the noise to time parts of your day by. It lasts for exactly the length of time it takes to soft boil a few eggs and toast two slices of bread. I am sorry I can’t make the quickest meal I know how to provide a little more quickly. I’ll work on it.

Until then, I would like to assure you that we are not beating or otherwise abusing our children and, like you, we hope this period of child development will pass quickly.

Thank you for your understanding,

Kate (a/k/a the foreign woman at the end of the street)