I don’t know why I’m still surprised by how loud everyone else in the world is when my baby is napping.

I’m sure I’m not the only mother who wonders, why everyone else is screaming, hammering, drilling, lighting firecrackers and walking in tap shoes down my hallway before slamming a few doors right when my baby falls asleep?

It seems the opportune time for the FedEx guy to pound on the door or ring the doorbell twenty-nine times which never makes any sense because he’s just going to toss the box on the front porch and tear out of my driveway before I have a fighting chance at greeting him anyway.

The phone rings with telemarketers, survey takers, the Jehovah Witnesses who I hid from minutes earlier have somehow found my number and it’s without fail, during Chloe’s one and only nap.

What does this mean for me? Now that our video cameras are installed, there’s little recourse I can take that won’t have me arrested but it’s tough to remain calm when my coveted 1.5 hours of tea-time will inevitably be cut down to twenty-four minutes because someone couldn’t wait to read me some more literature about why the Lord has no tolerance for all of this vampire stuff and quite frankly, neither do I.

It hit me the other day when we had some people in the house working. The hammers, drills and shouting back and forth between members of their team became exponentially louder the second Chloe’s head hit the fan pillow.

The best way to describe these two men was if you could imagine Mr. Slate (Fred Flinstone’s angry boss at the quarry) and Mr. Angelino, (Jack Tripper’s angry boss at the restaurant from Three’s Company). Not that these two were angry, they just had similar looks (think animal skin toga with a tie) and the loud voices to match.

My plan was solid. I would approach the men whispering and ask, “Could I interest either of you in a cup of tea?” This would help me achieve three things; 1) Homeowner offering a beverage to someone working within your home gains you instant points and you might actually get your problem fixed or voluntarily be told the whole project has been a sham and it costs you nothing. 2) By whispering, I was convinced they would follow suit. They had seen me with a two year old all morning and suddenly, no two year old. The logical conclusion is that she’s asleep. I know Mr. Slate dealt with rocks and cranes and ridiculously loud equipment his entire career so I wasn’t expecting much but Mr. Angelino? Tip-toeing around that dining room bending to the upper class demands of clients, putting up with the crazy antics of Felipe the dishwasher, surely you would read my tone? 3) I would get to drink my tea without looking rude.

Mr. Slate shouting, “Tea? Did you say TEA? Nah, I’ll have a coffee if you’re making.”

Mr. Angelino shouting louder, “Sure I’ll have tea!”

Let’s try this again.

Me whispering: What do you take in your coffee?

Mr. Slate: Oh (yes, he actually yelled the word “Oh!”) cream and sugar please!

Mr. Angelino: Just milk for me!

One shouting at the other before slamming my door so hard I ran to check if it was still on the hinges: Did you get that wire out of the van? Yeah, we need a bag and a pipe too!

What happened to the quiet lost art of morse code?

Chloe is awake and now I’m making two different hot beverages.

I believe this is what we call in parenting, negative reinforcement.