MARK MY WORD: IN PARENTS' WORLD, THERE'S PLENTY TO SHOUT ABOUT

As parents of young children, we long for a little peace and quiet.

Actually, we'd be perfectly willing to settle for some subdued, background noise.

At our home, quiet time occurs only in the dead of night when our children are finally fast asleep and we're passed out from sheer exhaustion.

Otherwise, our house is noisier than a festival of crickets.

At our home, Becca and Bailey provide us with all the sound effects we need.

Joni and I know full well that a 6-year-old and a 2-year-old can sound off at decimals far exceeding a drill sergeant's yells.

It's not that kids mean to yell. Rather, I'm convinced it's just that humans don't have fully developed ears until after they've graduated from college.

There's about a 10-year period where the hearing is fine. Then, the aging process takes over, and soon you can no longer understand all the lyrics to the Spice Girls' songs.

For children, growing up involves a lot of sound and fury. And that's when things are going well.

Like other parents, our home has been taken over by the neighborhood children.

This isn't a bad thing, but it does wipe out any thoughts of solitude.

When you bring your baby home from the hospital, you have visions of nice, quiet nights at home with your family.

But those visions quickly disappear.

Becca's only in first grade, but she already has a busy social calender.

On weekends, she regularly hangs out with the other neighborhood kids who make the rounds from one home to the other like a caravan of gypsies.

One experienced mom on our street has told me that it's not unusual for children's shoes, socks and assorted clothing to be left at friends' houses in the neighborhood like clues from a scavenger hunt.

The gang of kids often make repeated visits to our backyard swing set or congregate in our driveway to take turns riding the battery-powered toy Jeep.

They even come inside from time to time, racing up the stairs to our daughters' room. Of course, Joni and I always hope the room is at least partially clean when these impromptu gatherings occur.

Still, it's nice to live in a neighborhood where the dead-end street serves as front porch and makeshift playground, all rolled into one.

Forced out into the street by the antics of our children, we find time to talk to our neighbors.

It's not the kind of tranquil setting that Palestinian and Israeli negotiators have on Maryland's Eastern Shore this weekend.

They're staying at a rustic conference center filled with gazebos and rippling water.

It looks good on the surface. But I can't help thinking that a Middle East peace could best be brokered by neighbors talking to neighbors in the middle of a street.

Sure, it may be a little noisy. But sometimes peace doesn't come with the sounds of silence.

And, I must confess, it's a nice feeling to know that your home is on the neighborhood gang's itinerary of fun spots.

As the children will tell you, it's well worth shouting about.

~Mark Bliss is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.