"Mommy, I want a baby sister," six year old Dorothy said to me just the other day.
Our house is crowded. Dorothy not only shares a room with two sisters, but also sometimes a chair with one at the dinner table. When my adult kids come home, they battle for dibs on the couches. Ben lives in the little guest house on our property. We are at capacity. Yet Dorothy wants to increase our population. Why?
Being the youngest of eight, I know why. Someone is always there. There to play with, eat with, laugh with, grieve with. You get used to it- crave it, even. A few of my kids have even told me they don't really enjoy being alone, they are so use to having a crowd around. (I do not share this sentiment, but, hey, I'm the mom.)
Being from a big family means ABC's and SAT's, driver's training and potty training, puppy love and puberty--all at once.
Noisy? Yes. Crowded? You bet. Messy? Always.
But big families are, well, comfortable, in my opinion. I came from one. I have one now. And some folks think I'm crazy, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
I knew I had written about big families years ago for Memphis Parent, and I finally unearthed the piece on an old blog.
This piece best expresses how I feel about big families: They are beautiful.
Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD,
The fruit of the womb is a reward.
Like arrows in the hand of a warrior,
So are the children of one’s youth.
Happy is the man who has his quiver full of them;
They shall not be ashamed,
But shall speak with their enemies in the gate.
Psalm 127: 3-5