Whenever someone I meet finds out I have 6 kids, their eyes get as big as saucers. "Wow!" They say. Sometimes that "wow" is awe-filled and congratulatory, and sometimes it is snotty, to say the least. You wouldn't believe the kinds of questions I get asked--as if having that many kids means that my personal space no longer exists (or that I somehow haven't figured out how I got myself into this mess). "Are you having more?" is the most common. I personally think it's a rude question, and one I wouldn't dare to ask anyone but my closest friends and family. What's funny is no one ever asks my husband that question. You see, I think that deciding when to have kids, or how many to have, should be left up to husband, wife and God. It's a very personal decision, and one that often includes much soul-searching, and unfortunately for many, much heartache. So, if you meet someone who has more kids than you think you could handle, please don't ask her if she's having more. It's an invasion of her personal space, just as much as asking someone why she so selfishly stopped at two. See?
Having said that, I have concluded that people really don't mean to be rude. I happen to live in the ultimate Suburbia, where everyone seems to have 2.2 kids, a minivan and a dog--with cute stickers on the back window of the minivan to prove it. I love it here, but I am definitely not the norm. So when someone makes a comment, I've realized that it's because she couldn't possibly imagine herself in the same situation, so she is just trying to make sense of it. That's fine. It's why I can't quite bring myself to reply, "Why do you want to know?", like my husband wants me to do. The saddest response for me to hear is, "I wanted more, but my husband said 'no'". Dumb husband. Foul. That's completely unfair.
Anyway, I love having a big family. It is rarely quiet, and my house is rarely completely clean, but we have a lot of fun together. I love seeing my little people do remarkable things. I love my husband dearly. He is my very best friend, and without him, I couldn't do it. Still, some days are hard, and I will freely admit that I want to run away sometimes.
I never thought I'd write for fun. If you'd have asked me in high school or college, I would have shuddered at the thought. I had extraordinarily fabulous English teachers, and I was taught very well the mechanics of good writing (Mrs. Dann, I apologize for the dead word), but I could never come close to the eloquence I sought. I still don't. But I've learned that I can convey my thoughts, feelings and sense of humor better in writing than I ever could do in speech, so here I am. Just so you know, my Christmas card letters are legendary. Ask anyone.
This is my snarky mom blog. Please join me on my adventure. I would love to hear what you think. I find humor in all kinds of things around me--especially my family. Sometimes I get really pensive and serious, as I hold some ideas and people very dear to my heart. Through it all, I want to be like this very wise woman who said, "The only way to get through life is to laugh your way through it. You either have to laugh or cry. I prefer to laugh. Crying gives me a headache."— Marjorie Pay Hinckley