Dear friends and acquaintances,
I can tell you might be feeling a tad uneasy about the number of little ones in my company. (Or perhaps it’s just the one who’s sporting nothing but mittens and a cut-off shirt?) There are only three with me, yet I know that can feel like a small army and may even come across as a bit chaotic to a casual observer like yourself. Allow me to pause the whirlwind of activity around me to address your concerns about the delightful chaos that is my rather large family.
No, I don’t have a clue about how babies are made! I’m also a bit confused about how birth control works (must I really take it every single day, or can I just crush it into dust and make a wish as I scatter it in the breeze?). I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject—please, enlighten me! Be as detailed as you like, and feel free to add your political views so I know where to cast my vote. If you could also sketch a diagram of my anatomy, I might just understand what I’m doing wrong and why so many tiny humans keep appearing. No, I can’t reach out to the Pope since I don’t speak Italian.
You suggest that the perfect number of kids is one fewer than I already have? THANK GOODNESS you mentioned that—here, take my middle child!
Yes, my hands are utterly full. SO. FULL. It might be a result of my petite hands, but yours appear rather empty and, dare I say, quite idle. So when you point out that I’m juggling a bunch of kids, it sounds to me like you’re volunteering to help. Feel free to finish my grocery shopping and maybe swing by around 7 PM to babysit while I enjoy a night out with my husband. Don’t worry—you can also provide me with tips on how to prevent future additions after our date.
I know you’re thinking: there’s a lady who could use some parenting advice! Thanks for suggesting I give my crying baby a pretzel or, perhaps, my car keys. How did I not think of that?
While you’re here, could you also take a moment to discipline my kids? Clearly, I’ve got more than I can manage effectively, and in what likely appears to be a stressful moment for me, I could really use your insights on how you got your children to listen back in 1974. Could you also explain to my two-year-old that her emotional breakdown is ruining the day for a complete stranger? Because you’re absolutely right; who enjoys a wailing child?
Are we done adding to the family yet? I’ll let you make that call!
How will I fund their college education? In a van! Get it? I’ve always liked to kick off a conversation about my finances with a bit of humor. But honestly, I knew there was a reason I carried my bank statements with me today. PHEW.
Who are these Duggars you mention? Please, tell me everything!
You’re curious about how I manage? Here’s a hint: it involves a secret dungeon and a third nipple.
I’m so glad we had this chat. I hope you now feel at ease being near me and my delightful family of tiny humans. At the end of the day, a mother’s happiness often hinges on the mood of the saddest stranger she encounters while waiting in line at the Post Office.
For more on the realities of large families, check out our post on 10 Questions Not to Ask a Big Family.
—Summary—
In this humorous take on parenting, Jennifer Lane addresses the awkwardness that often accompanies her family of small children. Through witty banter, she tackles misconceptions about her parenting choices and invites readers to engage in the conversation around family dynamics. From addressing unsolicited advice to sharing light-hearted jokes about managing a large family, this post delivers a relatable perspective on the joys and challenges of motherhood.
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