Running the Big Show

Having five kids reaches the threshold of stopping conversation with a stranger for a silent beat while they absorb that tidbit of information.  I seem like a normal WASPy mama at first glance, a potentially good type for bunco groups and tennis leagues, but the "five kids" part leaves everyone questioning a bit and scratching their heads.  Then the stream of questions and comments and silent murmurings ("Is she Catholic?"  "Don't they know how that happens?") begins to flow. Even the Publix cashier feels entitled to her say on the pros and cons of five kids.  It's okay, though.  I know it's a crowd.

Don't I know it.

A happy crowd of folks all in my tender loving care.

My mom made a fitting comment when leaving from a recent visit: "You're running a big show here."

Truth.

So on Mondays, I thought I'd share a few things that are working or not working in my household.  Because we Roberts are do-it-yourselfers.  There are no Type A's leading this bunch. We are fighting against nature to get 'er done and get 'er done well.

That said, all summer, I've benefited from my in-house labor force to help with the 7 toilets, the everlasting pool cleaning, at least 14 loads a week of laundry, pet care, 2.5 acres of lawn, 147 weekly meals, and over a dozen flower beds. Whew. I'm winded just from typing the to-do list.

But with school and after school activities, I'm bumping up against the workload and am going to have to roll out my card system once again.  I used it every so often last year with good results, and even once with a play date riding home, which was somewhat startling for the poor guy since he was an only child, probably with a housekeeper.

The card system is simple:  I write down what chores are imminent on four index cards, one for each kid. The chores have boxes to check off as they get completed, and then the cards are returned to me when they're finished. Chore charts have not ever worked for me personally.  That's because the needs are ever-changing, the daily schedules vary, and I require on-demand service from my little helpers.  So we're going to give the cards a try.

I suppose I could hire out.  I've thought about it.  A lot. But the more we save, the more we are able to say "yes" to God when he asks us to give.  Our budget stays more flexible.  And how in the world can I develop a work ethic in my kids in this day and age without some good old-fashioned work?  As David aptly put it "If they haul rocks in a wheelbarrow for a while, they'll be overjoyed to be reading a book or doing practically anything else on earth."

AM might need two cards today. Style points for her, though.

I love that man.

Good thing, too, 'cause we've got five kids to raise together.

rainy day parade

Rain, rain, rain.  We enjoy the closeness, snuggled up at home, until suddenly we don’t.

Someone is wise to this:  Dad suggests an evening walk in the cold wet.  The kids rally to this idea because it means using forgotten raincoats crammed in the very back of closets: the slick yellow fireman, the shiny purple with a single flower, the sassy green trench, the all-purpose red hoodie.  Then they look out the window and realize it will be cold.  Wet.  Most definitely wet.  Dark, too, very soon.  These thoughts settle uncomfortably in our minds. And Dad takes walks in the woods, not the roads. 

There is nothing quite like the resistance of a herd.

Somehow he slices through complains with unfettered brow.  We pile in, drive down, park along the woods, a trail I have never seen.  There is a sense of adventure but it is heavily outweighed by reluctance to get out of the car.  Maybe it’s the survivalist in me, or the wimp, or the comfort lover, but these occasions aren’t my gig. 

The sun is gone and the cold rain pitter pats on the windshield.

Dad silently gets out and starts walking.  We better hustle up because he has the keys and won’t be coming back soon.  Our troop begins a colorful march, an unseen twilight parade of purples, yellows, greens, reds.   At first there are complaints.  The rain!  The mud!  The cold!  Dad walks on.   We are silent and small beneath the tall trees, the dark silhouettes of pine branches far above.  Then I start to hum and the little one slips his warm hand into mine.  The older two find walking sticks and begin to explore.  Dad whistles a tune.  The sweet girl spins her ballerina umbrella with the ruffled edge.  Someone starts reciting scripture due for tomorrow’s exam, and the rhythm of the walking noises and the togetherness lifts our spirits and I don’t know how it happens every time but our reluctance is transformed into undeserved fun.  Fun!  We’re in a moment of joy, in spite of ourselves.   

I almost missed this.  We all did. 

Sitting at home, each doing something relatively meaningless, we would never know the beauty of the twilight, the delicacy of light rain in the middle of the woods, the pleasure of being outside and together, cold cheeked but warm within.

I walk and think about this, and am thankful yet profoundly sad.  What else have I missed, what blessings have passed me by?  I am confident my life is strewn with blessings never claimed, now impossible to recover.

One blessing I almost missed I well know.  Number Four.  If God would have asked before sending, I might have said no, God, do you see I already have a baby, a one year old?  A three year old?  A five year old?  I would’ve resisted.  The diapers!  The mess!  The exhaustion!   No, dear Lord, my plate is full.  I’ll pass.

But the Lord knows the blessing beyond, and He gave and we accepted and it took some adjustment but now His blessing has a face.  That very face looks up from the muddy ground and asks me to hold him.  I lift him up, up, up into my arms, and put his cold cheek to mine and blow a soft puff of warm air in his ear.  He giggles while he inhales, a sucking in of life and love: his signature laugh.   He looks at me with green eyes flecked gold and a happy grin and puts his two hands to my cheeks and nose to my nose. 

We are standing in the woods in the dark and the rain. 

I look at him and know I almost missed this.  This tiny lovable guy with a long road of his own blessings stretching before him.  Generations of his offspring:  his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren.  I almost missed them, too. 

For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.  Jeremiah 29:10-12