When I had five under nine

So what was I was doing when my oldest was 9? I was trying to cope. I just functioned, one foot in front of another, one day at a time. I've told part of this story before. Here it is again with some additions.

One day we had three children, ages 2, 8, and 9. Twenty-four hours later we somewhat unexpectedly (we knew it was going to happen, but it was supposed to be several months away and we literally had only 24 hours notice that it was _now_) had five children, ages 2, 3, 5, 8 and 9- and the 5 y.o. was developmentally about 18 mos old and both the 3 and 5 y.o. were still in diapers.

The 2 y.o. we already had was potty trained during the day, and I did get both the two and three year old out of diapers within a year or so, but it would be another four years before the 5 y.o. was toilet trained (she still wears a pull-ups at
night and when stressed, like during a move).

Our new children arrived ten days before Christmas. We had no beds, no clothes, no presents, no completed preparations at all because they weren't supposed to be coming until several months later. We were also expecting out of town company and since it was my parents it didn't occur to me to cancel. In addition to all the things we had to do for our new children, our 'old' children had certain expectations concerning rather elaborate Christmas traditions we had developed.

The new children had a terrible case of scabies, and we fought that for about the next year. We all ended up getting it, and at one point, in despair, I simply burned all of our clothes and bought new ones. My military husband, after the nature of military life, was away on assignment for three of the scabies bouts.

Life went on. We survived. I did what we had to do, I guess.
But starting on a cold Thursday in December, the day we received the phone
call saying "She wants you to come pick them up tomorrow, permanently. Do you want to go through with it or back out?" - on that Thursday we began to rather frantically run around getting ready. I don't think I stopped running for the next two or three years. It sure didn't add to my free time that we moved into a new house six months later.

Many older mothers will talk about how very tired they were at some point when the children were small and young, and I can vaguely remember feeling the way they describe, but it takes a lot of effort, because mostly those years are a gap in my memory.

If I stop to really search, I have a vague sense of how desparately, insanely tired and spread thin I was, but it's very, very foggy. It really seems to have been someone else I know vaguely, not myself. I was just so busy.

Maybe I'm not the only one guilty of that same memory lapse.

We did lots of reading, reading, reading. NO television. More reading. LOTS
of outdoor play (they played while I fixed and cleaned up meals. LOTS of discussion. More reading. And I am picky about what my children read. Very little twaddle (NO Elsie Dinsmore, Mandie books, and few series books).

We played games together, and they played more of them together, they did crafts, and we got together with another family who shared our approach to doing fun stuff (art, poetry recitals, homemade gift exchanges, a history day when everybody dressed up like one of the Presidents).

I sometimes read aloud while we ate. I taught my children some basic meal prep skills while they were pretty young. We had simple meals.

I once boxed up all the toys in the older girls rooms and told them they could have 'em back when they kept stuff clean for 30 days. They never got it, but I don't think they cared that much (except for sentimental reasons, and I do still have those things for them). They played with blocks and dress up clothes and art supplies and each other more than they ever did before.

I think kids need free time to think and to play and to experience their own thought life more than they need all the stuff we give 'em.
And books, lots and lots and lots of really *good* books.

Are you tired, worn out, and weary? Give each other a hug and have a romp on the floor or in the back yard. Forget the dusting. It takes the same amount of time to dust one month's worth of dust as it does one week's. Same for vacuuming, and it takes just as long to remove all the clutter to do either task. If your husband wants the dusting and vacuuming done weekly, then do it, but find something he doesn't care about and neglect that instead. Cooking and cleaning will be there tomorrow, but babies do grow up.

Give yourself and your beautiful family a hug and go play.

For further encouragement read these two posts by the smart lady at Dominion Family.

Why We Read
Part Two