Raising My Tribe of Five

Yesterday I was sitting on a bird poop splattered bench at park number four, feet swollen and stiff, lungs slightly out of breath, with sweat dripping down onto the back of my neck, tricking me into thinking it was a nagging fly. Or maybe it was a fly. Okay it probably was both. My phone was sitting face down beside me on silent, I don't even know why I felt the need to have it there with me at all. So I'm sitting there in all of my sweaty fly covered bird poop sitting on glory, just watching my kids prance around the play structure, bouncing back and forth between the giant plastic hippo and the ladder that Ruthie, my youngest, refused to stay off of, even though every single time she climbed up on it somebody would remove her- usually Eleanore, whos gotten really helpful over the last year. So while I'm watching them, I'm thinking "Wow. I'm their Mom. Those are my kids. This is my life"... in a good way. At first it was an annoyed way, because my legs were chaffed from all of the walking, and I was sick and tired of hearing complaints about who was hogging what slide or bouncy animal ride on toy thing, and... ya know, the small stuff that gets under our skin and makes us want to bury our face in a pillow and scream? But after I had five minutes of everyone leaving me alone (minus Ruthie and that dang ladder- it gives me a heart attack every single time, as I see her falling and banging her head on one of the bars, total slow motion style), I took a few sips of cold water from my purple hydro flask with the child chew marks all over the mouth piece, swatted at the sweaty neck fly a few hundred times, and then I had a change of perspective. I just suddenly saw everything differently.

When I became a Mom eight years ago, I had no idea what I was in for. And at first, it was easy. I probably didn't think so at the time, but, when I look back on it- it was just me, my husband, and our one baby living in an apartment, going through what another Mom once described to me as "family boot camp". A diaper change here, a bottle of pumped milk there... no big deal. What I had, I could handle. But if somebody would have asked me to babysit... I probably would have gone into a rare form of I actually have no idea what I'm doing shock. If someone would have thrown 4 kids at me right then and there... check mate. Absolutely, no, way.

All day yesterday, before the park, I had been picking up my phone off and on and checking my mobile facebook account, its something that I do when I'm feeling isolated, getting annoyed at just about every other post I read. Especially the posts in some of my Mama groups, where most of the gals posting are young ladies fresh to family boot camp, just like I once was. But what was I even annoyed about? ...The more I thought about it, it finally dawned at me, that I'm at a different place in my life. Dare I say it, but- I think I've finally graduated family boot camp. Not only have I graduated boot camp, but I think I might even be able to teach it!

I've spent the past eight years of my life, totally transforming. Personally and spiritually, I am a completely different woman. I went from being that scared Mama of one, practically locking herself up inside of her apartment with her baby, day in and day out, no friends, terrified of her new surroundings and the judgement that would come with leaving her plastic bubble, to.... a well evolved leader of five little ones, traveling across oceans and practically moving mountains, to make a difference in their lives.

...did you catch that last part? I said "five" little ones.




So here I am, thirty years old young, married to some guy I met at a taco bell drive through ten years ago (seriously, who would have thought all of this would have come from a crunchwrap?!), living on a tropical island in the middle of the pacific, raising my beautiful tribe of thick haired babies, mastering the messy art of motherhood, collecting plenty of freckles and battle scars along the way.

Less time in Mama groups on facebook. More time at the park catching Ruthie when she falls off of that dang ladder that she refuses to quit.

I made pancakes for breakfast this morning, by the way. Christopher is at work, he works long hours, and a lot of weekends. I woke up at 3:30 this morning and couldn't get back to sleep, no matter how hard I tried. Normally I would probably use my lack of sleep as an excuse to give the kids something simple like toast, but not this morning. This morning I made a great effort to keep a smile on my face, hug everyone, and flip some flapjacks of the Bobs Red Mill variety on the griddle (which is totally on the fritz), three by three, while the littlest one clung to my still swollen tree trunk legs, and the rest of the tribe watched old episodes of Tale Spin one room over. Simple times, simple joys.








There will never be a boring moment in my day. My heart and plate are full.

(...little five, another surprise gender, will be joining us this September.)