Witch, Please

The most expensive personal thing I’ve ever bought for myself was a pair of those tiny noise-canceling earbuds. You know, the ones that are so small they’re almost mythical. Invisible. Slightly magical. Exactly what I needed, because if I wore the big headphones my children would immediately decide I was wearing the Crown of Narnia and must be dethroned.

These earbuds were my declaration of independence. I justified the price by telling myself they’d help me “focus” and “relax,” but really I use them to listen to podcasts while refereeing an argument about who looked at who “with the wrong face.”

I remember staring at the price tag thinking:

No sane mother spends this much on something smaller than a jelly bean.

But then one of the kids started narrating a meltdown in surround-sound, and the decision made itself.

They have survived laundry cycles, snack time raids, and one toddler who tried to store one in a sock drawer “for later.” They are my sanctuary. My force field. My ability to hear my own thoughts again.

Truly the best money I’ve ever spent.

Even if I keep checking my ear every five minutes to make sure I didn’t lose one again.