With 5 children ages 7 and younger, the youngest being not quite 7 months old, some days in this house seem like they have barely begun before it is time to put everyone to bed. Others seem to drag on and on and a minute is like a thousand hours and an hour is like a thousand years. But there are usually moments. Moments of joy amidst a swirl of chaos.
Today there was the aroma of coffee and the burst of the familiar, comforting flavor as I listen to the cadence of zmr’s voice reading from the gospel of Luke to the children, punctuated by the vocal stylings of zman. Ztwintwo’s prayer that our neighbor wouldn’t have trouble with her “dia-beads,” echoed by zgirl, “bad bee-dee-beadeez.” For those of you that don’t speak that language, they meant diabetes.
There was the smell of sausage sizzling in the pan, destined to become the deliciousness of sausage gravy. Zfirstborn tried it again today, and for the first time in response, his face lit up, he licked his finger and said “Mmmmm!” Zgirl, of course, devoured it. Ztwins wanted no part of it, which was fine by zmr and I; more for us. I used to love cooking, especially for zmr. So many days lately I am weary of cooking and cleaning. I just did it after all…it ought to stay done for at least a day right? But children need to eat, and grown ups too, and the delight on faces when they enjoy something I have made feeds me. Biscuits. Doing the scramble dance while we scramble eggs. Yes. Not just zgirl, but zmr and zmrs too.
The unmistakeable sound of the scraping of legos together in the search for exactly the right piece, while The Lone Ranger episodes played in the background, legos and story new delights from family for Christmas. Zgirl prancing into the room after getting dressed for the day, ready to take on the world, and everyone in it, starting with her brothers.
Ztwinone singing at the sink “Squash soup for dinnnerr! Squash soooouuuup for dinner!” Whereupon I realize this household is not one in which a boy child is raised by wolves. No. The wolves have come to the human-big people to be raised. Yes. I am raising a pack of wolves. This is also evidenced whenever they sing “How Great Thou Art” and the chorus resounds with howls of “Then sings my sooo-oul…” and I’m not sure whether it really sounds like praise or an injured hound, but God did say “Make a joyful noise.”
Zman heartily approving of his first experience with “solid” food. Solid being a relative term. Sweet potatoes and a smile and some civility shown by the big boys as they each took a turn “feeding” him. Or rather, contributing to the orange ooze on his chin.
There are other moments too. Moments of trial, moments of conflict, moments of “she took my lego, my balloon popped, nooooo, why did you say that, that’s my baby-doll, why are you cutting popcorn on my table with a steak knife, she took my chocolate ball, shut the door, Mommy I nee-eeed another balloon, I’m sorry.”
And some days I am struck by the reality that these moments add up to their childhood. When they look back on it I hope that they remember the joy. I hope they remember grace and forgiveness out of the conflict. And, well, to be totally honest, I hope that someday they remember to shut the door, flush the toilet, wash their hands, and say “Excuse me” too.
stumblingtoholiness 
What a great story, sounds like the Brady bunch, (you are too young to remember who they were) . Good luck with the no cooking, with five children it never ends. The joy will come from a loving home life.