If no one calls and I don't speak all day, do I disappear?

Here's how I know that I'm a real Grown-Up with Responsibilities and Such: when I check voice mail, I'm happy when there are no messages.

In high school and college, there was nothing better than a message. Someone had called! Someone was thinking of me! Even better if it was a boy!

Then when the oldest kids were little and I was home all day, there were times when I felt like the title of this post, which is a line from "Single" by Everything But the Girl. Of course I was speaking, but it was the repetitious Mommy-speak that's necessary but sometimes mind-numbing: "Time for your nap!" "Don't put your fingers in your brother's eyes!" "Let's change your diaper." "Don't put that in your mouth!" I'd turn the TV on just to hear adult voices. Phone calls were good, too.

But now I'm getting older, and so are the kids, and I'd rather not hear that staggered dial tone that means there are messages. If it's a friend or relative, I'm relieved and happy, but chances are it's something that takes being responsible and busier. Almost every time I check for messages, I remember how excited I would have been 15 or 20 years ago, and I think about how things change. Or maybe about how I change.