Working girl

So I had this amazing epiphany last week. I am a stay home mom. It's been my full-time job everyday, all day, week long, month long, for the past 11 plus years. Stay home mommy-ing has been hard for me. The adjustment was rough and quite frankly, it's the hardest thing, job-wise, out there. Most men can't do it. They crack after a couple of hours. Many times, I couldn't do it and would have some serious "cry outs" to cope. However, as I grow more and more into myself, I've enjoyed more and more my role as stay home mom. I love my kids, I get to spend every waking minute with them, and it's a good thing. Even a blessed thing. Sooo, the other day, as I was saying, I had this super idea. I was going to shower just like Matt does. Matt works. Like, he actually gets up, gets ready, and leaves for work. I work, but really, I don't even have to brush my teeth for my co-workers. My co-workers are more concerned about worms in the yard and avoiding baths. Anyways, I decided to shower. Before work. Of course, you can't be showered and pretty and then put on frumpy clothes, so I went shopping and spent $150 on me, myself, and I. I NEVER EVER NEVER buy myself clothes. But my new job required it. One of the things I bought was a jean skirt from GoodWill. It was longer, but I loved the fit around my large marge bum and thighs. The idea hit me to "alter" the skirt. I'd cut it and sew some lace around the hem and it'd be cute. Cuz I am now a changed, "cute" mom. I took the skirt home, cut it, sewed some lace around the hem, and put it on. And when I bent over to pick up my sewing scraps, the air up my back side told me I was mooning the world. I had just sewn a hootchi skirt. And hootchi is not part of MY job description. Anyways, long story short, I noticed my curtains in the bathroom. Nasty, old people curtains. But the hem of the curtains, I noticed, had cute, embroidered edging. So I took the curtains down, cut the bottoms of it and sewed it to my hootchi skirt. It worked! Sorta. My skirt is cuter than fat-girl stretch pants anyways. The other day, as I was digging through my dresser for pants to wear, Angela came up behind me and said, as I gingerly tapped my sweat pants, "Mom, remember, you're gonna be pretty mom now." So I closed the drawer, got out my new jeans, ripped the tags out of my new shirt, and properly got ready for work. I have to admit, I sorta like it!

Cake Boss

Lately the kids and I have been quite captivated by the show, "Cake Boss." It's not the smartest thing for me watch, as eventually I'll find myself purchasing a wanna-be "Cake Boss" cake and eating the whole thing to myself.

However, after about the 45th episode, I stood up from my chair and announced to the kids, "Kids, lets make our own Cake Boss cake!" Colby and Angela cheered, the rest of the kids just looked at me, then back to the TV.

Mamma don't play.

I Googled "fondant" and found a simple recipe. Colby busted out our Betty Crocker cake mixes and the 3 of us went to work.

It was actually LOTS OF FUN!!! Angela went to town being creative and Colby went to town, kneading fondant into about 5 different colors. My brain went 5000 miles per hour, planning on each child's next birthday cake.

Here's what we ended up with:
Cake #1

Cake #2

Seriously, it was fun. Now I have all these plans for my kids' birthdays. Boxing glove. Lone Ranger. #1. Make-up. Dora. Football. Soccer ball.

It's gonna be so fun.

However, baking's not my thing. So the fun will start and stop with my kids. I'm too ADD to bake. Baking takes too long.

Anyways, nothing too exciting. I've got a bedroom that barfed up about 200 pounds of clothes, so ta-ta for now!

Holding and holding and holding

Wow, today was such a loooonng day! McSmiley seemed to think that the best thing on the agenda today as to be held. Literally, all. Day. Long.

And I did. I don't have a problem with holding a baby. I mean, I got nothing done, and it got a bit frustrating when I'd try and put him down cuz he fell asleep nursing, only to have him blast his eyes opened and cry at me, but BESIDES this, I don't really care.

I'm super anti the argument that "babies manipulate their mothers." Honestly, that's a load of crap. Teenagers manipulate, even spouses manipulate, but babies and in my opinion even young children, do not manipulate.

Not to sound combative, but if you think babies manipulate, I think it's just the wrong attitude. I mean, when I'm cold, I want a blanket. When I'm hungry, I want food. When I'm thirsty, I want water. When a baby feels alone or a desire to be comforted, he wants arms cradling him. He wants to feel the warmth that only a mother can provide. He wants to sense her beating heart.

It's not manipulation. It's validation.

Someone once told me, while witnessing my "validating" my baby, "ummm, you're supposed to be the one in control. Not the baby."

I did practice control: my temper, my tongue, and my middle finger. But I did not change what I was doing. Babies simply do not "control" their environment, but rather they "sense" their environment. And in my professional opinion as a mom of 11 years, the best thing a mom can do for her baby is let them know that they are in a loving, responsive environment.

Right now my house doesn't need to sparkle and really, my husband doesn't need to come home to dinner on the table. Right now what DOES need to take place is that my babies have a sane mother and are they themselves confident in their new surrounding.

Don't get me wrong. I did have to put him down and take a break, and yes, he cried his eyes out. But then he was picked up and I turned my back on my dirty house and just held him.

Laura came over to a very dirty house. She's the definition of "perfect friend." I have a strong 6th sense and guess what? I didn't sense for a second that she judged my dirty house. Instead she held Riley while we chatted and I washed dishes. Friends like her are next to impossible to find. Lucky for me, I have a handful right here.

Anyways, the kids came home, they held Riley and helped pick up the house, and by the time Matt came home, he was pleasantly surprised at how clean the house actually was.

"I thought you had a hard day? That you couldn't get anything done cuz of Riley? The house looks great!"

I told him, "it's the kids. They cleaned and held Riley so I could get some stuff done."

The thing is, I believe in spoiling babies, but once they're old enough to, I believe in producing my own army of Merry Maids.

So at the end of the day, everything ended well. Riley got what he wanted, Matt got what he wanted, the kids felt good for doing jobs well done, and I ... hmmmmm, well, what DOES a mom get???

"Ummm, personal question..."

Matt and I go on a date every single week. Occasionally we can't, but NORMALLY, about 90% of the time, we go out every single week. I was advised as a young mother, "Take time for each other. Date each other. Once a week. Leave the kids behind for 4 hours and enjoy each other. You'll either spend money for babysitters and dinners, or later on, for divorce lawyers or marriage counselors." I'd so rather eat a taco than pay an attorney's trip to Europe.

Anyways.

Yesterday we went to BW3. "Buffalo Wild Wings." The place should be called "Barf-alo Crap Wings" if you ask me. Don't waste your calories there. We had a 25 minute wait, so we meandered over to the furniture store. Just to browse.

Super nice sales lady. Wanda. I know they work for commission, so they're all nice, but you could tell by her easy chit chat and not forced smile that she was sincerely a nice lady. We were looking at bunk beds and said to each other, "we need to get 2 sets for the boys." This of course led to Wanda asking, "How many children do you have?"

We always look at each other before answering this question. I don't know why. Whenever anyone asks, we glance at each other, then both look at the person, say 7, then subconsciounsouly (sp? Killer word) sit back and prepare for the onslaught.

Wanda's face went from happy smiley to confusion. She looked at me. Then at Matt, then back at me. She looked at my legs, Matt's full head of hair, back to my gut, then finally made eye contact with me. Then eye contact with Matt. She squared her shoulders, cocked her head, and said, "Ummmm, can I ask you a personal question?"

There is no question I won't answer. Really. I ask the most nosey questions of all ~ I should've been a reporter ~ so quite honestly, I welcome any and all questions.

"Did you have them all together? Or did he have some, you have some, and you just got married with them all?"

"All together. Married, one month later got pregnant, and just never stopped" was Matt's answer.

"He just can't keep his hands off me!" was my follow up answer.

Wanda laughed and laughed and said, "Well, that's GOOD thing! It's time to worry when they WANT to keep their hands off ya!"

We've had this exact same question before. People wondering if we're a "yours, mine, and ours" family. You can't blame them. None of the kids look a like. We look more like a, "your's, mine, his, his, that guy over there, him, and ours" family anyways.

And you know what? I love the question, because I love the answer I can give. In a society where divorce is rampant, I think it's nice to let people know that families CAN be solid. It's not a thing of the past. It is possible. And it is beautiful. And I think if more people saw it, they'd see that it was something worth working for.

Matt and I have had our struggles. Don't get me wrong. We argue, we fight. Jess has asked, "Are you breaking up with Dad?" a number of times. I always tell her, "No Jess, I'd never break up with Dad because I love Dad and he loves me. We're just disagreeing, but it's OK."

And yes, they do see us kiss and make-up.

How does one know?

Gosh I'm struggling right now. Maybe it's all in vain, I don't know. All the really important decisions in my life, I've really felt the Lord guiding me. Serving a mission. Marrying Matt. Having children. Moving to VA. Changing career paths. Moving to a bigger house.

I always knew I wanted a lot of kids. As a little girl, I was always drawing pictures of my future house, my future husband, a page FULL of kids, and of course dogs and cats. Maybe even had a few gerbils in the picture. Today, I hate pets.

7.

I always wanted 7. Why 7? I don't know.

When I was pregnant with #7, I remember thinking, "now I'm gonna get all fat again, but that's OK. It's my last."

Then I miscarried.

And I had a distinct feeling that the 6 children I had were literal gifts from God. He ALLOWED me to have them. And He didn't allow me my 7th. And it was His decision. And worrying about getting "fat" was about as shallow as a puddle.

And I suddenly felt like if it were the Lord's will that I had more than 7, then I was perfectly fine with it.

But then I read that the Duggar lady had the same experience. She miscarried her first, and felt, "We'll have as many as the Lord sends us." She has 19 kids.

There's got to be a reasonable stopping point, ya know?

After giving birth to our 7th, both Matt and I felt so strongly the Lord's hand and the sense that, "Everything will be OK." And we felt that if the Lord wanted to send more, we'd be honored.

Anyways, the thing is, I feel like, when we're all together, that "someone is missing" feeling. Matt says it's the dog I won't allow (permanently) into the house. Whatever. I've felt that from the very beginning. My question is, does that feeling ever go away?

I've had this discussion with a handful of people, my sister included. Many of my friends absolutely love babies, would have more. But for one reason or another, KNOW they are done. I don't KNOW that I'm done.

And I think I have every right to KNOW. It's an extremely important decision.

Is there one or even two up in Heaven, wanting to join our family? Is "Feeling" like the family's not complete a legitimate feeling? Do I want more because "more is better?" (I don't agree with this, but you get the scartastic undertone.) I've been perfectly healthy physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually thus far, would having more severely compromise this?

Personally, I KNOW I'm cut out to handle a large family. I don't stress over little things, boogars on my sleeve don't ruffle my feathers, I love seeing the kids behave as I did as a little kid, enjoying life as I did. I multi-task with the best of them, I laugh a lot. Matt's a great husband and an even greater father. We're on the road to a financial lifestyle that would support a large family. Probably couldn't take the family to Germany anytime soon, but they do get Hanes socks.

We've prayed about this, discussed the issue together. Matt would like to be done. I would like to be done. But then we ask ourselves, "do we want to be done for selfish reasons?" And who knows, maybe my eggs are all dried up and there's nothing but an echo in my fallopian tubes, so this could be a waste of time issue, who knows.

So my question is really to all you mothers of 6, 7, 8, 10, 12 kids. When you finished, how did you know? And I'm not really wanting to ask this to moms who hate being moms, but have kids left and right anyway. Because I won't agree with whatever your reason is. I'm really more concerned with asking moms who absolutely love being a mom, have defeated cry-outs at times, keep an orderly (not OCD Martha Stewart clean) house, can say no to requests of service because you know your limits, have regreted yelling the way you did the other day, and eat pizza from Ceasers every once in a while.

I'm interested in hearing from the regular mom with lots of kids. How did you know to stop or make the decision to have the number of kids you do have?