You can spot (or more likely hear) us from quite a distance. At times, it may seem like my partner, Mark, and I are engaged in an elaborate game of charades, using exaggerated hand gestures and silent threats directed at our children: “This is the last time! Never again!” Except, of course, this is the thousandth time we’ve said that.
We tend to do our best tidying up in the frantic ten minutes before guests arrive. And just two minutes after we’ve managed to make the house look decent, it quickly reverts back to its usual state of chaos.
When we finally make it to church (if we’re only a few minutes late on a good Sunday, that’s a win), we’ve heard more than once that the “entertainment” has arrived. Yes, we are those people.
We probably run the dryer an extra five times just to “re” fluff laundry that’s been neglected for who knows how long. Grocery stores, malls, and amusement parks? They all have a love-hate relationship with us. We’re the ones pushing two shopping carts while managing a double stroller (and trust me, nobody enjoys navigating around the woman maneuvering a double stroller), with our kids zigzagging everywhere they shouldn’t be.
It’s a safe bet that we haven’t had a good night’s sleep in seven years, and it doesn’t look like that will change anytime soon. Our vehicle is packed to the brim, whether it’s a day trip or an overnight getaway, requiring at least 12 bags just to function. But fear not: if something goes missing, we can likely locate an extra sock, a few pairs of shoes, a stray sippy cup, a pacifier, or some sweatshirts tucked away in the most obscure places of our car.
As our family continues to grow, we find ourselves receiving fewer invitations to gatherings, with people’s patience for our lively circus wearing thin. We stock up on enough food and supplies to sustain a small army, yet somehow, just days after our shopping spree, we find ourselves needing to restock on essentials like paper towels, toilet paper, diapers, or wipes.
Meal times are a cacophony of cries, screams, and the occasional child attempting to break out into a dance in the middle of the kitchen. It’s a wild ride, with no in-between. This is our everyday life—23 hours a day, 6 1/2 days a week.
You can usually find me dashing around the house, nursing a baby in one arm while chasing two toddlers with my “free” hand, all while another child calls out from a different room. The dog is barking, someone’s knocking on the door, the phone is ringing, and the smoke alarm is blaring due to my latest cooking endeavor. You might read about families like ours or see them in movies, but no, that’s us. We embody that family.
Our bed is far too small for everyone, and by “our bed,” I mean the entire family’s, as no one seems to want to sleep alone. Snack time feels like it happens constantly, and when we visit someone else’s home, you’d think we haven’t fed our kids in weeks. With them all aged 6 and under, it makes me shudder to imagine what feeding time will look like during their teenage years.
I openly admit that I look forward to pizza night every Friday and I have a fondness for our paper plates that surpasses any dishware we own. We work hard, we play hard, we fight hard, but we love even harder.
Yes, we’re that family—the wonderfully chaotic one I’ve dreamed of for as long as I can remember. And honestly, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. We might be a bit crazy, having lost our sanity long ago, but we are also deliriously exhausted and profoundly in love with the crazy crew we call family.
So, the next time you catch a disapproving eye roll, hear whispers just loud enough for you to notice, or feel like your family is completely out of the norm, take heart—you might just be doing something right.
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