Too Many Kids
I read several journals of multiple child households. I'm past all
of that now, mostly. Having teenagers underfoot all the time isn't
quite the same as babies or toddlers. Even my grand kids, except for
Alex are well beyond the definition
of small kids.
Sometimes, though, when I see a woman at the grocery store unloading a
van full of kids I get wistful feelings. I quickly dispel them, however,
by conjuring up memories of what that was really like. Whew!
When my first child was born, I felt very much prepared for whatever
circumstances arose. I had read all the books and developed what I
thought, was a very sound child rearing philosophy. I had a set of
rules, you see, and I followed them to the letter.
As time passed, I learned more and more that I wasn't a very good
parent. For one thing, my daughter told me so. All the other parents
-- fill in the blank -- much better than I did. Not only that, but
I started noticing that my daughter seemed to have ideas of her own
that had very little, if anything, to do with MY ideas of how
she should live her life.
Then other kids came along. My rules were much more flexible, my
discipline less harsh -- I was much more laid back about it all. I
was still a terrible parent, though. Although I thought I
had found room in my plan to enjoy the kid's various personalities
instead of trying to mold them into perfect offspring, now I had
feedback from the oldest . . .ack . .and the middle . . ack . . .
and the youngest . . ack.
I learned what it was like to have a truly wild child. A preschool
child who is willing to go toe to toe with anyone can be quite an
ordeal. Although I found myself embarrassed, outraged, horrified and
many other not-so-nice emotions, I found myself getting a sense of
humor. There is something, well, FUNNY when your child is up in the
face of the director of the YMCA telling him, "I've been thrown
out of better places than THIS!"
It wasn't until I had three toddlers that I realized that I'm just
not cut out to be a parent. They wore me out; they wore me down,
they made me incoherent with their sheer abundance of energy, rarely
focused on any one thing. When I opened the door, they scattered in
three different direction and I wouldn't know which to rescue first, the
one heading toward the pool, the one heading toward the street or the
one heading toward the big stray dog.
Getting ready for work in the morning took ages. One at a time (to
avoid the above mentioned scattering syndrome), I took them out to the
car and strapped them in their seats. I would offer up a prayer that
I hadn't left anything liquid or colorful laying around inside the house
for them to be smearing into the upholstery or carpet. I hoped that
my purse was up where they couldn't get my favorite pens and draw on
the walls. I wondered if I had closed the door so they weren't splashing
around in the toilet.
One morning, I had finally loaded all the kids and the diaper bags and
bottles into the car, I had my purse and I had my car keys and I was about
ready to load the four year old in when he closed the car door. The
car doors were locked. My purse was in the car with my keys and I was
standing in the driveway, looking at the row of car seats and all the
babbling babies kicking and playing and I thought, "Wow, it is sooo
quiet!"
None of them seemed in the least upset about being locked in the car.
Daniel was going from window to window,
making faces at them and I could see their little mouths moving, but I
couldn't hear a thing. It was a beautiful early winter day and I
remember that I could actually HEAR the leaves rustling with the breeze.
I could HEAR the neighbor's wind chimes and her parakeets sitting near
an open window . .it was so quiet and peaceful.
Telling Daniel to watch the babies, I climbed the back fence and went into
the house to call the locksmith. The first man I contacted suggested that
I call another person who would be able to get to me faster and gave me
the number.
I contacted the second locksmith who said that he would rush right
over. He told me that the kids would be ok, it was a cool day and he
guessed that it would still take him twenty minutes or so to get to
me.
"Take your time," I said.
