What I have learned as a mother of 5
Having five kids never really hit me until the first time I took them all to the grocery store. How would I fit a toddler, uninterested in walking, a newborn baby, AND groceries for a family of seven into one shopping cart? I couldn’t. Very quickly I realized that life would be drastically different now.
But, not impossible.
So, we take two carts. My oldest daughter, Asher, pushes the cart with the food, and I push the cart with the littles. My oldest son, Axton, and middle daughter, Ari, walk beside us. Walking through the aisles, it never fails that we are met with comments.
“Are all of them yours?”
“Wow, you have your hands full!”
Honestly, it’s become our new normal.
The drastic life changes didn’t stop at grocery shopping. Having five kids changed many things in my life, from the placement of the car seats in our SUV to the extra time needed to plan for a road trip. What used to be a quick hop in the car and drive to an out of town soccer game, has turned into a full day of planning and packing. My entire life revolves around timing nursings and pumpings to fit within the chaotic schedule.
Like many firsts, a few weeks ago, I tackled my first out of town soccer tournament with all five kids alone. I spent the night before packing the car with blankets and toys, and the cooler with drinks, snacks, and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Then, I spent the morning pumping bottles, nursing, doing hair, and changing diapers. When we hit the road, I was confident and ready to tackle the day. Because of my careful planning, we drove the hour drive with no tears, made it through the first two soccer games with very few hiccups, and into nap time flawlessly.
The day had gone perfectly, until it didn’t. My 1-year-old, Ayken, was awakened from his nap too early, and my 6-week-old, Adley, was approaching her witching hour, and struggling with gas. Ari, my 4-year-old, was hungry again. Asher, my helper, was out on the field, and Axton was exhausted after playing soccer himself.
It was the perfect storm.
Ayken and Adley were both crying hysterically, Adley in her carseat, Ayken in the wagon. As I emptied the wagon, layed out the blanket, set up my chair, and dumped out the toys, I could feel eyes staring at me. I tried to ignore the holes burning into my back, and continued to focus on my kids. I got Ayken out of the wagon, and placed him on the blanket with Ari and Axton to play, but he continued to cry. I grabbed Adley from her car seat and sat down to nurse her. Ayken very quickly became jealous, and wanted to nurse as well.
It was about 30 minutes of chaos. Picking up one and putting down the other, trying to rock one, then rocking the other. Making sandwiches for some, and nursing the others. I could feel the looks getting stronger and stronger, but I didn’t have the luxury or time to stop.
Eventually, Ayken calmed down. He sat in my chair with a package of Pop-Tarts and watched Cocomelon on my phone. Adley had been nursed and I was massaging her stomach. Ari was sitting on the blanket eating peanut butter and jelly, and Axton had fallen asleep in the wagon. I finally sat down on the blanket and looked up to watch Asher play.
It was halftime.
I hadn’t seen a single second of the game.
I finally had a chance to look at my surroundings. To my right were three women. They were sitting in matching team shirts, and staring at me. I knew they had been watching me, probably waiting for me to throw up my hands and surrender, or throw up my voice in frustration. I was probably being judged for nursing a 18-month-old, or for giving him sugary Pop-Tarts and screen time. Because I finally made eye contact, they had to speak.
One of them shot off, “Wow, mama, you’ve got your hands full. We have been watching you, and we are exhausted.”
I wanted to get offended by the comment, but instead I started to introduce my kids. I told the three women the names and ages of all my kids and told him the blessings they are in my life.
Very quickly, their faces softened.
It was in that very moment that I realized something very important. Life is about perspective.
Everywhere I go I hear the same comment, “You have your hands full.”
And my natural reaction is to become extremely defensive and justify my kids’ behaviors, or to explain my situation, or why I am alone with five kids.
At first, I did just that. But the more I hear the comment, the more I have learned about others and myself. People are often intimidated by situations they don’t understand or have never experienced before. I learned that their comments were from a place of ignorance, not judgment. I stopped defending myself and I started to provide clarity.
Yes. My hands are full. Always full, in fact. I am living in what I call organized chaos. I am stumbling constantly between work and appointments and practices and games, and my life revolves around a color coded calendar.
Yes, my hands are full. But, I have five beautiful children, who have learned empathy and selflessness because they have a large family and several siblings.
Yes, my hands are full. I have an 18-month-old and an almost 2-month-old, both nursing. But, I have special moments throughout the day where I have to sit and be present with my children in the midst of otherwise chaos.
My advice to you next time you see a mother or a father with several children, possibly in a similar moment of chaos: Try to find perspective. Some may see it as having his/her “hands full” but I know, speaking for myself, and probably many other parents – the fuller our hands, the fuller our hearts.