I am so far behind in my blogging that if I tried to catch
up on all the events and pictures I’ve missed, I know I would get bogged down
and just never blog again. So, I’ve
decided that I will just fast forward through these last eight months as though
they never happened—although I can assure you that they did—and start fresh
with this week. If you are confused
(that is if there is actually anyone reading this) and you need clarification
or catching up on something, just leave me a comment J
So, it is late. Way
too late. And, I should be
sleeping. But, I spent most of the
evening fighting with my husband—my stove is broken and has been for a month,
and he keeps saying he’ll fix it, but hasn’t yet. (He’s not handy, I know he’s not handy and I
love him anyway, but I still keep expecting him to magically become handy). The stove story is a saga for another post, or
most likely just best forgotten. Anyway,
it has been my experience that fighting with one’s husband is not conducive to
quickly dozing off (although, perversely fighting doesn’t seem to have the same
effect on my husband who is blissfully snoring away right now). So, I was lying in bed thinking and
contemplating all things important as well as all things irrelevant and odd and
I thought maybe it would help to just put some things down on paper (or screen
as the case may be). Just be forewarned
. . . I’m feeling tired and random.
We have a new foster child.
He’s a three-year-old little boy; in fact, he is one week and four days
older than Jeffrey. We’ve wanted to try
doing foster care again for a while, and we are really having a great time with
our new little guy. However, I have
found that having one more child has really added a new level of insanity to
our lives. We now have six kids under
the age of nine—and three of them are exactly the same size and almost the same
age. It is really pretty hilarious
whenever we try to take the whole crew anywhere. You though it was funny before? You should see us now. J
So, I have to ask myself this question . . . what is wrong
with me?? Why do I have this compunction
to keep bringing more children into our lives (because, let’s face it, Jerry is
a great sport about it, but you know he’s not out there signing us up for
this!). I have a confession to make . .
. sometimes I watch moms that just have one or two kids and it just looks so
much easier. They have enough hands. They have enough laps for everyone to sit on
etc. etc. etc. So, it’s not like I’m
blind to the fact that life is harder with six children than it is with just a
couple. But, still I keep collecting
kiddoes. Maybe I just like things a
little crazy and busy and noisy (oh my gosh, you wouldn’t believe the
noise!!!). I think that might be part of
it . . . although a lot of the time the crazy, busy, noisiness absolutely drives
me up the wall.
But, in the midst of all this rushing around and feeding
children and changing diapers and cleaning and cleaning some more and feeding
more children and feeling like a complete loony toon, there are moments of
absolute perfection. That blissful five
minutes when all six kids are playing a game together and being so sweet I just
want to ignore the mountain of dishes and watch them play. Or the first time one of them sees a brother or
sister crying and rushes in to help them feel better.
Every day there are moments when I look at one of my children
sitting a certain way or saying a certain thing or looking just so perfect and
precious and it’s almost like time stands still for just that one second and my
heart fills up and I love that child so much that my I feel a physical ache in
my chest. In that moment I know that it
is all worth it. Whatever craziness may
come . . . the early gray hairs, the messy house, the noise, the skeptical
looks from observers, the frustrations . . . it’s all worth it for these
absolutely perfect little munchkins that can make my heart melt with just a
little pat on my cheek or a funny look or a word of wisdom spoken with a
lisp.
That is until they start beating
each other up over a favorite toy or all six start screaming at the top of
their lungs and racing through the house toppling things and people over as
they go. Then I start looking for the
nearest traveling circus we could join, because we are just a complete freak
show . . . on second thought, maybe I’ll just send the kids . . . then I could
finally have some peace and quiet. On
third thought (as I glance into my kitchen with the still not-functioning, torn-apart stove) maybe that circus needs a new handy man too. I have one I’d like to trade in for a new
model. (hee, hee, hee)
