Dear Kelly,

I love my children. Don’t get me wrong. But each spring, after my newest batch has burst from their eggs, their chirping does not stop until I have nearly plucked each of my stunning, iridescent feathers in a fit of insanity.

Few can tell how difficult this parenting is because I’m just so beautiful. My feathers shimmer. I dart like a bat, but a pretty, non-Gothic bat. Yet underneath all of this glamour is a Violet-Green Swallow who wants a few moments in an oval-holed birdhouse above an unmowed lawn to just munch on a bug… alone.

As spring and bird-parent season nears, I need to figure out how to prepare myself for the upcoming cacophony. How can I be a good mother and a happy bird?

Stunning But Soon Unhinged

Dear Stunning,

First, I respect your accurate self-assessment about your looks. Some might call that hubris, but that would be like accusing Beyonce of hubris for saying, “I am incredible in every way and at all times.” It’s not hubris if it’s correct.

But to the heart of the issue: Noisy Children. I get it. I have four children who are good children, but even good children can be absolute sound monsters. Here is what has worked for me:

1. Wearing earplugs. This might not help you because you are a bird, and my research shows that no company has created earplugs for birds yet. (Business opportunity, reader!)
2. Walking away. For you, it would be flying away. This only works once they’re fledglings, though. As a human, I wouldn’t leave my toddler near the stairs any more than you’d leave your wee hatchling near a dang cat.
3. Breathing. We can both do that!
4. Relying on your partner. I don’t know about your specific and undoubtedly handsome-as-heck seasonal spouse, but if you ask for them to take a couple of extra rounds of moth catching and delivering to the babes, I’d hope they would step up.
5. Remembering that it’s temporary. Apparently, your li’l ones are out of that nest in a month. (My human side wants to say, “Oh my goodness, it’s only a month,” but my human life will last 7-8 decades – okay, maybe six, let’s be honest about my love of treats – while your bird life will likely last 6-7 years. It seems rude to bring this up, which is why I’m putting this in parentheses, but it also seems dishonest to my readers to ignore this.) I remember trying to watch a Seahawks game while eating spaghetti while holding my infant daughter and firmly believing that I would never enjoy a meal again. I was wrong! And VGS gal, you’ve been there before. Your little things will fly away – probably all the way to Guatemala! – and you’ll have your peaceful beetle-munching days once again.

If you were human, I’d also say things like, “Accept help from friends!” and “Eat something more nutritious than a winged ant!” but here we are. As is, I am sending you the quietest thoughts I can muster in my own home o’ kid noises.

Kelly