In partial defense of the madness that is my life...

Okay, I will start by saying the following:

(a) I am a poor correspondent. I am, in fact, so poor at keeping in touch with others, that I expect to be posthumously decorated by some Agency for Not Staying in Touch with Others when I am interred in this earth.

(b) I am busy. Over busy. Some of this over-busy-ness I select and put upon myself, and therefore my excuse of being over-busy is partially my own fault. (I say partially because every activity I undertake includes the possibility for change, error, and misstep, and therefore also includes the possibility for delay and stress.)

(c) My life is loud. Hence the title.

However, I also find that I get--not flak, per se, but lack of understanding from some of my single friends when I tell them I am buried and cannot hang out. I try to convince them that it isn't because I don't want to spend time with them, that I am just crazed with work and shows, and half my life is spent with my kids. It is the last part that gets barely-restrained eye rolling.

There is a writer named Carolyn Hax who pens an advice column for the Washington Post. Here's one that has been floating around the aether for a while now, but that just recently caught my eye--she has said it better than I could, so I'm just going to wantonly plagiarize.

Dear Carolyn:

Best friend has child. Her: exhausted, busy, no time for self, no time for me, etc. Me (no kids): Wow. Sorry. What'd you do today? Her: Park, play group . . .

Okay. I've done Internet searches, I've talked to parents. I don't get it. What do stay-at-home moms do all day? Please no lists of library, grocery store, dry cleaners . . . I do all those things, too, and I don't do them EVERY DAY. I guess what I'm asking is: What is a typical day and why don't moms have time for a call or e-mail? I work and am away from home nine hours a day (plus a few late work events) and I manage to get it all done. I'm feeling like the kid is an excuse to relax and enjoy -- not a bad thing at all -- but if so, why won't my friend tell me the truth? Is this a peeing contest ("My life is so much harder than yours")? What's the deal? I've got friends with and without kids and all us child-free folks get the same story and have the same questions.

Tacoma, Wash.

Here is her response:

Dear Tacoma: Relax and enjoy. You're funny.

Or you're lying about having friends with kids.

Or you're taking them at their word that they actually have kids, because you haven't personally been in the same room with them.

Internet searches?

I keep wavering between giving you a straight answer and giving my forehead some keyboard. To claim you want to understand, while in the same breath implying that the only logical conclusions are that your mom-friends are either lying or competing with you, is disingenuous indeed.

So, since it's validation you seem to want, the real answer is what you get. In list form. When you have young kids, your typical day is: constant attention, from getting them out of bed, fed, clean, dressed; to keeping them out of harm's way; to answering their coos, cries, questions; to having two arms and carrying one kid, one set of car keys, and supplies for even the quickest trips, including the latest-to-be-declared-essential piece of molded plastic gear; to keeping them from unshelving books at the library; to enforcing rest times; to staying one step ahead of them lest they get too hungry, tired or bored, any one of which produces the kind of checkout-line screaming that gets the checkout line shaking its head.

It's needing 45 minutes to do what takes others 15.

It's constant vigilance, constant touch, constant use of your voice, constant relegation of your needs to the second tier.

It's constant scrutiny and second-guessing from family and friends, well-meaning and otherwise. It's resisting constant temptation to seek short-term relief at everyone's long-term expense.

It's doing all this while concurrently teaching virtually everything -- language, manners, safety, resourcefulness, discipline, curiosity, creativity. Empathy. Everything.

It's also a choice, yes. And a joy. But if you spent all day, every day, with this brand of joy, and then, when you got your first 10 minutes to yourself, wanted to be alone with your thoughts instead of calling a good friend, a good friend wouldn't judge you, complain about you to mutual friends, or marvel how much more productively she uses her time. Either make a sincere effort to understand or keep your snit to yourself.

You can read the full article
here, but I pretty much reprinted all of it above.

Give your friends-who-are-parents a little patience and understanding. They probably would LOVE to spend time with you. They just need time. Like, maybe a decade or so.