Bored

I'm not sure I ever really envisioned myself as the mama of many. To be honest, other than knowing I've always wanted to be a mom (which only requires 1/5 of my current load), I never really gave my ultimate family size that much thought. If pressed, I imagine I would have said 4--2 girls and 2 boys--just because I was pretty sure I wanted more than 2 and I liked the idea of having both genders and of my girls having a sister and my boys having a brother.

So now, on the cusp of becoming the mother of a brood of five, the most frequent response I receive to the most frequent question from strangers ("is this your first?" and my response "no, fifth"), right after "you must be crazy/a saint/very busy" is "how do you DO it?" And I find this a little annoying, to be honest. I've tried out some cutesy phrases "willpower and caffeine", "a healthy dose of insanity and very little sleep" and some sweet ones "my husband helps a ton" (true story--the man is brilliant at housework--much better than me to be honest) or "my family is the best part of my life--why would I want to limit that?". But the honest to God truth is I just do what I have to do. Is it overwhelming, at times? Of course. Is it beyond busy some days? Absolutely. Is it exhausting? No question. But you just do it. If you sit back and mourn the dozens of loads of laundry and the hundreds of meals and chores of course it seems impossible. But we muddle through. And I have to say that I am as happy as I can remember being. I never go a day without at minimum 10 hugs and kisses. I never go to sleep without hearing "I love you" at least a half dozen times. I never fold a shirt or pick up another stuffed animal without realizing how much the owners are growing and filling the world and my heart to the brim with crazy, noisy joy.

And today it is very easy to wax poetic and grateful because I am experiencing something I thought had altogether vanished from my existence--boredom. Seriously. I am bored. Grace is at a friend's (yes, again. I swear I'm really only raising 3 children because she is always out in the world somewhere doing something). And Claire is with her beloved cousin Bridget (my brother Brad having realized, as I have, that an extra kid in the house actually reduces your workload). We let Sam invite his buddy over due to the extreme unfairness of his sisters having somewhere to go and his not and they are upstairs playing quietly in his room (read: playing video games). And Lucy is happily playing alone (I swear that girl would have made an ideal first child--I think the chaos of all of us gets to her sometimes). Chad is watching TV and getting ready to start on yet another house project. Darlene (the miracle house cleaning fairy who continues to come back willingly every week) was just here yesterday and it is hours before I need to start supper. I've begun buying my groceries online, so thanks to our weekly stop at the HyVee drive through, our cupboards are full. I'm even current on laundry. So I am unaccountably unencumbered. I'm not free to dart out into the world, of course, but I've never been much of a shopper and I get tired just going up stairs these days, so I can't really think of anywhere I would even go.

So I'm bored. I know this is fleeting (I may not even have time to finish this post before someone needs something), but it is just so "durned unexpected". I truly can't imagine just having a kid or two. I guess I like the bustle and chaos and noise. I hate the mess (I think that is a variation on the mother's curse, you know the one--"I hope someday you get a kid just LIKE YOU (aka sloppy, messy, dirty)" and it's inverse "I hope my pet peeves (i.e. aversion to messes) become your pet peeves when you're grown"). But I like being needed. I like having lots of people around. And on days like today I feel like I'm on top of my game (ask me next week when someone gets sick on the same day as the rescheduled school talent show on the same day as my major presentation at work and Chad's only business trip of the year). But every now and then it happens. And I'm going to revel in it for the next, oh, 10 seconds or so. I can't imagine there is much more of this left.