I despised math as I tripped through school. And, I know numbers don't matter. People matter. But I've got numbers on my brain this morning. And their implications and impact on my living.
It started with just two of us. Five years later, it was six of us living in a one bedroom apartment up on the third floor without a washer and dryer in it. I potty trained my first two at the same time. Not fun. Especially since just one of them tinkled in the toilet (thankfully!!!) twenty-three times in that first day. Once my first child started school, I sent another child to Kindergarten for the next three years in a row. Pretty soon, I had five children in Elementary school. When I went to the school for the Christmas singing concert, only two grades didn't have one of my children in it -- for four years in a row. And, I've had at least two at home as well, sometimes three since then. I had seven children in Primary all at the same time (if you count Nursery as part of Primary -- is that cheating?). The next year, we had two people in the house who held the Priesthood. For three years, we had seven children in school. For two years, we had eight lunches we had to make everyday. I counted once how many slices of bread we went through with just the seven that were making lunches for school. Twenty-four slices. That's twelve sandwiches for seven people. Yes, I had a teenager in my home. Then the oldest one got braces. Now, fewer sandwiches, but still roughly a loaf of bread a day for lunches. I taught my oldest two to drive at the same time. If you thought potty training two at the same time was bad. . . . Eighty hours of driving in six months or so. Whew! Four licensed drivers. Two needy cars. Now, we have ten children. Seven girls. Three boys. Five teenagers with raging hormones (if you count the twelve year old a teenager -- he sure acts and smells and eats like one) that communicate with lots of unexpected emotion and hilariously faulty logic. Innumerable crazy discussions about silly things. Five people with long hair. Four people needing haircuts each month. Twelve people in eight bedrooms (one isn't technically a bedroom). Four children with their own room. Twelve beds to change. Three sets of bedding to wash almost everyday. One child in diapers. Three bathrooms. Eight children in school. One in 12th grade, one in 11th grade, one in 10th grade, and one in 9th grade. Three children in High School. Two children in Middle School. Three children in Elementary School. Fourty-two teachers (My oldest has one period of release time or it would be forty-three.) to communicate with at Back to School Night or Parent Teacher Conferences and when trouble arises. That also meant forty-two school disclosures to read and sign this past month. Five CC&R's to attend. Four children in Seminary. Seven children baptized. Four priesthood holders in our house. Three children with Presidency meetings to attend. Five children that can go do baptisms for the dead. (Try keeping track of that many recommends!) Almost (two weeks shy) ten children in their own classes at church. Hurray! Six babysitters (I'm counting my 10 year old who is better than two of her older brothers' combined efforts!). Two children in Activity Days. Five children going to Young Men's and Young Women's each week. Three boy scouts. Two children completing personal progress goals. Two children working on Faith in God. Three children working on Duty to God. Three children in marching band with practices or performances on up to six days a week for sixteen weeks straight (if you don't count the summer). Eight children with claims on two limping computers each night for homework. Eight children keeping track of reading hours (That's right, folks. Even my senior has to keep track! Something is wrong with this world, I tell you!). Luckily, only one of those who can't read on her own yet. Possibly six science fair projects to dread this year. Just loads of fun. Ten backpacks for eight children (Remember there are A and B days. It could be worse!). I'm positive I can't count how many shoes we rotate through on a weekly basis. Nine children forgetting to put things away or close doors. (Twenty-two doors.) One climbing baby that treads through the house like King Kong leaving destruction in her wake. Three meals to make every day. Twenty-one meals a week to plan and prepare. Twenty-one meals to clean up each week. Thirty-six plates. Thirty(?) bowls. We can eat two meals before we start running out of dishes to use and have to get creative. Ten gallons of milk a week. Three pounds of noodles or four cups of uncooked rice for our dinner meal. We can eat seventy-five tortillas a week without even blinking. We have three working TV's we use on a regular basis. Six remotes. Twelve opinions. I'm guessing here, but I think we own close to a couple hundred movies, and maybe over a thousand books we must store somewhere. Don't get me started on the games, bikes, ski gear, river rafting paraphernalia, and piano books. And Papers. They're out of control. Six and a half filing cabinets don't take care of that problem, silly enough. One calendar. Not enough white spaces. Three outer windows are broken and taped up. The oven door and fireplace glass have been shattered for over a year at least. One working dishwasher, two refrigerators, three freezers, one oven, one washer, one dryer, four couches, one table we squish around at our meals, and at least thirteen laundry baskets. I do a minimum of ten laundry loads a week. I'm guessing it is closer to fifteen or more. Two vacuums -- neither one of them capable of suctioning dirt. Nine dressers, five of them work properly. Eight desks and only one of them used to do homework. One piano, nine people who know something of how to play it. One clarinet. Two children with multiple drumsticks. One broken snare drum. One beginning xylophone. Five or more flags and one rifle for two children. One drum major baton. Four children that want to be in dance or gymnastics so badly, but can't. Six of us go to church choir each week. Six children wish they could play soccer. Seven budding artists (at the minimum). One Eagle Project. Eight alarm clocks. Only three that seem to work on a regular basis. Two cell phones, one itouch, and one ipod. Twelve birthdays each year. Between July 1st and October 1st, we have six of those birthdays. Twenty-four feet, hands, ears, and eyes. We constantly have someone who is sick or with a health complaint that requires a doctor's care. And, as the doctor told me himself, when someone gets the flu at our house, it quickly becomes an epidemic. Twelve voices speaking, usually all at once. Eleven people to hug me and tell me they love me each night (That's the best one.) And it goes on and on. . . .
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