The Magic Number Seven

(Disclaimer: this has nothing to do with the hilarious but kind of raunchy episode of Friends. Admit it, Friends lovers-- you know which one I'm talking about.)

What I am talking about is what it is like to have seven kids for a day. And a night. And another day.

Three of them are my own. They are 4, 6, and 8-- nice, round numbers. No one is in diapers. Everyone feeds themselves. Everyone brushes their own teeth. I don't even have a package of wet wipes in the house anymore. I was more than happy to tear out the cupboards with child locks. Apparently we are grown up around here.

Our friends went out of town for a much needed break for a couple of days. Our kids are good friends and I was happy to take them for one of the nights. They all behaved perfectly. Really, everything was as smooth as it could have been. However, the experience was still enlightening.

My grandma had 10 kids. My mom had 5. (Well, 7 if you count the twins that died at birth.) I have 3. Do you see the trend? I guess I always figured I'd have more, but circumstances being what they are, my baby will be 5 in January and I'm starting to think that the time might have passed. Who remembered how much work a 2 year old is? Not me.

There was a strange exponential noise increase in our house last night and this morning with all seven here. It actually left an echo when they all went to bed, although that could just have been my ears ringing. Layne went to work early this morning, and I'm pretty sure that it's because the breakfast table sounded like a hen house.

Kudos to my friends for having very well behaved children. I just told the darling two year old it was time to take a nap and she said "Okay," and started sucking her thumb. Mine never did that. Maybe when you get to child number 4, you have to have a system about things like that.

Anyway, I've decided that my Grandma, my mom, two of my sisters and everyone else with 4 or more kids are better women than me. These two days have been totally fine, but I don't think that I'm cut out to be the long term mother to this many kids. There. I admitted it. I'm not the coolest mom on the block.

So I say, good on ya to everyone with more than 3-- ya'll deserve trophies. And earplugs.