Things You Shouldn't Say to a Mom with More Than Two or Three Kids....

I have five kids. Yes, it's a lot of work. Yes, I'm busy. Lately I've grown a bit tired of the stares when we take them all to Wal-Mart like the monkeys escaped from the zoo. When you have more than three kids, you hear these things ALL THE TIME!! Little remarks meant to be funny or inspiring are really just something we hear a lot. I mean a lot!

1. Do you know what causes that? 

Really? Of course I know what causes babies...I've had three. We all went to junior high and high school where we were subjected to corny, albeit informative, reproductive films. Those of us who had anatomy and physiology in college got another in depth look into what causes babies. So, YES!!!! We know what causes it! 

Some of us choose to have bunches of kids and some of us never dreamed we'd have as many as we do. I was one of the latter...I wanted to be a career mom who made tons of money and paid someone else to raise my babies. God had something else in mind. I figured out eight years ago that I love being a mom and was lead to fostering which resulted in kids three and four. My sweet Pretty Little was a surprise. 

Needless to say....please don't ask us that. We've heard it a hundred times over and it's old. Instead ask us about our day and treat us like adults instead of uneducated reproductive machines. 

2. You must have your hands full.

Of course I have my hands full!! I've got five kids under the age of 10...my hands were full six years ago when I had two kids. You cannot imagine the sheer energy it requires to keep up with laundry, dishes, cleaning, appointments, parenting, and discipline that goes into caring for a child...times 5. I feel like the plate spinner that's constantly running from plate to plate trying to keep them all spinning without allowing any to fall and break. Only I have about 25 plates going at any given time. 

For example, in the winter I wash, fold, and put away approximately 98 socks every week. That's only if winter is mild and doesn't require more than one pair of socks to keep my toes warm. Needless to say, I love summer for that reason alone. 

Instead of marveling at all we do, ask us if we need help! I, for one, would be unbelievable grateful if someone asked to help me fold my laundry or watch the baby an afternoon so I could take a long, uninterrupted nap. 

3. You're such a SUPERMOM!

It's a nice compliment, it really is. I like to hear this one because it's nice to know that some people think I've got it all together, but in reality, I'm not even close. Not even remotely close. It can appear that way on the outside because we made it to church on time with all the kids dressed, fed, and alive, but really they desperately need baths, we had five different meltdowns while getting ready, and they fought all the way there. 

In reality, most moms with kids (any number, even one) feel like we're failing at times. Me, I feel that way often. On any given morning, there are piles of laundry in the hall to be done, a pile on the couch to fold, and some waiting to be put away. My house is so rarely clean (I mean clean like the laundry is done, bathrooms clean, and floor mopped...deep clean? What's that?) that I have to celebrate on Facebook. This doesn't cover when I totally lose my patience and have an exorcist moment with the full head-spin and lightning bolts from my eyes. 

Thanks for the compliment, but in reality, I'd like for someone to ask how they can help or just give me a big, bear hug and some simple encouragement. 

4. Don't call me a crazy kid lady

A dear friend that I truly love cracked this one off. I don't collect kids like single, elderly women collect cats. I don't need to have people around me. In fact, I love to be alone. I always have. It's quiet, the work I do stays done, and there's no one wiping snot or some other unknown substance on my clothes when I'm by my self and if there is...at least I know what said substance is. 

I know this person meant this to be a funny joke meant in love, but it actually hurt. I never dreamed I would have this many children. We were DONE after two, but God knew that two little boys would need me and my husband, and now they're ours. Then, we had our little surprise who's God's gift in so many ways. 

Please, please if you have a snarky remark you think is funny, think it over before you say it. You may not mean it to be hurtful, but it might be. 

5. I don't have the patience for that. 

I hear this one a lot. A LOT! I mean, who has the patience for five kids unless you're Jesus. Really? I'm not a patient person. Years of retail management have led to me expecting things to be done right away and to my standards, which with five kids, are unreasonably high. 

I lose it. OFTEN. Sometimes I lose it so bad, I feel terrible for days afterward. Luckily,my kids and husband know enough of God's grace and love to forgive me during my less-than-desirable moments. I'm a human being. I get mad, upset, and downright furious sometimes. I'm neurotic about cleanliness--which isn't good when you have five kids! 

We don't have the patience for it either. Ask us how you can pray for our family instead. 

6. How do You do It?

I get this one almost every day. My answer, "lots and lots of prayer." AND lots and lots of coffee and an extra dose of Vitamin B. I've yet to master setting apart a time to pray in my busy days. I have a running conversation with the Lord all day every day. I talk to him in the car, while I'm folding laundry, rocking the baby, or doing dishes. Even while I'm scrubbing toilets. Most of the time, my running narrative is a nearly constant conversation with God. I couldn't survive otherwise. 

I don't do it well most days. Some days just keeping the kids alive and the house from being so gross we get bugs is the best I can do, but the little moments like Sophie's belly laughs, Silas' three-year-old bear hugs, and Eddie, my oldest, winning The Golden Rule award make it worth it. Like I'm doing something right. 

So next time you see a tired, haggard mom toting three, four, five, or more kids....instead of staring at us like we stole all the chimps from the zoo...smile and ask her what you can do to help. Or just tell her she's doing all right. Or just move along. We're not a zoo exhibit, we're just regular people who happen to have a large family. 

Today and Every Day

I felt led to start this blog after the experiences I had during my pregnancy with my baby, Sophie. For those of you who don't know, Sophie is the last of five children that call me mom. I've got three kids that are God's biological blessings and two kids that came from God through fostering.

Long before Sophie's birth and even before her pregnancy, I was wandering further and further away from God. I'd gotten lazy with all of the kids being in school, so I spent too much time sleeping instead of being a good steward, a good mother, and a good wife. I think the enemy has used my love of sleeping as a tool to lure me away from Bible studies, church, and other groups like MOPS, where I am encouraged in my walk. I stopped listening to Christian music for the most part and was lured away, once again, by secular music. It's an easy road to start down and before you know it, you haven't listen to a praise CD since the last VBS---a year ago. The lack of church, Bible study, prayer and Godly friends brought me to a place of bitterness and unhappiness. Top that off with four kids and rough pregnancy and you've got: One. Hot. Mess.

That was me in November of last year--pregnant, tired, and miserable. Then it got worse, but better. I'll explain. I'd gone to the doctor for my 34 week check up. I thought my blood pressure was high because my ankles were cankles and they'd never been that huge. My BP was 170/92. WOW! They sent me to labor and delivery and I was admitted later that day. I knew Sophie would be okay if she was born at this time, but I was scared for both of us. I was scared to lose her and scared for my other children and my husband to lose us both. The doctor ran more tests and determined I had severe preeclampsia and needed to deliver for the safety of us both.

The induction was S-L-O-W. Bodies aren't ready for delivery that early and don't care for it either. They pumped me full of magnesium in hopes to bring my BP down to a less-dangerous level and pitocin to get labor going. Finally after 24 hours of contractions, my water broke on its own. I was in horrible pain and asked the nurses to have the anesthesiologist to give me more "juju" in my epidural. The doctor checked my dilation and I'd gone from a 0 to a 6 in a half hour. More intense, excruciating pain. Now we're at a 9 and the nurses are holding my legs together because she's ready to come out.

I was pretty much delirious at this point from the pain and the Fentanyl I received while waiting for more juju.  I can remember being calm, so calm. Not from drugs. Not from breathing exercises. It was ONLY from the presence of Christ. I tell you He was in the room. No, I didn't see him, but I know, without a smidgen of doubt, HE was in that room. Since labor had progressed as fast as lightning streaking across the Missouri sky, I was pushing just minutes later. Andrew was on my left and Jesus was at my right. Never before in my life have I felt the clear presence of Christ, but I knew he was there, beside me as I delivered. I cried out, "Jesus,  I need you," before my last push because I didn't have the strength for pushing or more pain at that point.

Sophie came out perfect...wide awake, alert, and quiet. It scared me. I thought there was something wrong since she didn't cry. At 5 lb 3 oz, she was what her daddy dubbed a "little, bitty baby." They whisked her away to the NICU soon after and I didn't see her again for about 12 hours. When a wonderful, kind NICU nurse named Mindy brought her to see me the next day, I knew that this little, tiny, perfect baby had brought me back home.

Later that night when I could finally get out of bed. I showered and went to see her. This tiny, helpless baby lay beneath UV lights and heaters with wires and tubes attached to her. It was awful, terrifying, and scary, yet I knew she was and would be just fine. I picked her up and she started to fuss. I put her inside my shirt, so we were skin-to-skin and I sang "How Great is Our God." Sophie immediately quit crying and went right to sleep. The nurse said that's the most peaceful she'd been all day.

She never needed a breathing tube or IV feeding. She surpassed all of the doctors' expectations. I say, "she rocked the NICU so hard they kicked her out," at four weeks before they expected. Now, at nearly six months, Sophie weighs nearly 20 lbs, rolls over, sleeps through the night, and eats baby food. You can't tell she was early at all--except for she's a little small.

This entire experience brought me back to the Christian "walk" where Jesus is at my side, gently nudging me in the right direction. With my eyes on the cross, I'm moving closer to Him, rather than farther away. Every time I look at my precious baby girl I know, without a doubt, that part of the reason she's here is to remind me where I belong. I know He has great plans for her and I pray for an impactful, Godly life for her, but for today (and every day), she's my smiling, giggling, chubbalicious reminder of Christ's eternal forgiveness and pursuit of me.