The Town Crier

photo courtesy of morguefile.com
photo courtesy of morguefile.com

I think I’ve become a town crier. Here’s what wikipedia says a town crier is:

The town crier can also be used to make public announcements in the streets. Criers often dress elaborately, by a tradition dating to the 18th century, in a red and gold coat, white breeches, black boots and a tricorne hat. They carry a handbell to attract people’s attention, as they shout the words “here ye, here ye.” 

I’m not making public announcements in the streets, though I could be persuaded, but I do announce the time every morning. I bang on Noodge 1’s bathroom door and shout the time so he will get out of the shower and make it to the bus on time. I don’t understand why he spends so much time in the shower, and honestly, I don’t want to know, but I do want him to make the bus so I march up the steps, bang on the door, and cry out the time.

Part of me finds this whole escapade every morning frustrating because in addition to crying out the time for the shower I must announce the time to wake him up. (The only things missing each morning are the gold coat, white breeches and the handbell. Wait a second, I actually have a handbell! Hmm….I might be going about this all wrong.)

I don’t want to be the town crier, though I might want to wear the clothes. I want Noodge 1 to wake up by himself, take a shower without a reminder to get out and oh, I don’t know, wear his retainer without being told. “Is that too much to ask?” I ask.

But part of me, the mommy part who misses her little bald baby sometimes, takes a deep breath and says “enjoy being the crier. You look good in the hat.” You see, in two very short years, Noodge 1 will be in college and I won’t be able to walk into his room and shake him awake or bang on his bathroom door. I’ll miss him terribly and wake each morning wondering if he got off to class all right. I won’t know how he’s spending his time or if he’s getting his homework done.

Noodge 2 doesn’t need me to wake her up, gets ready on time, and has one foot out the door into adulthood already. She won’t step into her brother’s place for me.

After Noodge 1 goes, how will I spend my mornings?

Folding up the breeches, hanging up the coat, tucking away the tricorne hat.

You can bet I’ll never stop ringing that bell!

By the way, Welcome To Skull Mountain, book three in the Gabriel Hunter series, is due out the end of November. More details coming soon.

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4 thoughts on “The Town Crier

  1. Like you, Stacey, IDK why my guys–especially Older Son–need to be in the shower as long as they are. (Uh, I’m sure I don’t want to know either, but it’s not like their washing their long hair that takes a while, right?)

    Getting them up at their ages should be a challenge, given a teen’s bio-makeup. They’re wired to be up at night and sleepy during the day. Brings us to the age-old question of why school at the secondary level starts so danged early. Younger Son is a junior and is out the door most days by 6:45. We’re not zoned for busing, but traffic is horrendous if one isn’t out by 7:05 (latest).

    Older Son’s (my HS graduate) current schedule doesn’t call for mom having to wake him up. I’m long gone before he needs to be up. Can’t believe those days are done, for him, anyway.

    1. Well…Noodge 1 has long hair, so he might be spending time washing and conditioning it, but I think he goes back to sleep in the shower until I bang on the door. But I agree, that teens should start school later. Even just an hour would make a difference.

      No busing? Did you have to drive them or could they walk before they got licenses?

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