I have four kids.
And while this is somewhat shocking to me, I still don't get why this is so fascinating to other people.
I began to appreciate the Wow Factor just recently. It was especially apparent when we took a family outing to the Renaissance Festival. We went just the week before NBC was born, and I was - um - EXTREMELY pregnant.
Still, I didn't think I was all that interesting. At least - not interesting enough to merit shouts from afar like
"Dude, whatever you're drinking, I don't want any!"
"Don't you know when to stop?!"
"I don't envy you at all!"
"Don't you know what causes that?"
"Can't believe you risked it again!"
(Although, to be fair, there were copious amounts of ale around.)
Yet despite the general state of inebriation, I found it strange that perfect strangers were suddenly intensely interested in our methods of birth control. Or lack thereof. (Ahem.)
I just don't think of myself as having a large family. Or having children particularly close together. For me, we are the epitome of normalcy. I mean, doesn't everyone define "normal" as however they are? I'm quite sure that you - sitting there at your desk, reading this blog, yeah, you - think you're normal. Whether you have two kids or eight kids or no kids. (Unless you have like fifteen. Sorry. That's not normal, no matter what you think.)
My kids are what I breathe, day in and day out. It's like someone shouting out bawdry comments about the fact that I have two eyes. Really? I look at them every day. Didn't realize it. Thanks for pointing that out.
Same goes double on the issue of whether or not we're going to "go" for a girl.
Why does EVERYONE ask me this?
Lately I've begun to tell people that I'm just waiting for an angel to appear to tell us what to do. Because I honestly don't know. Do I want a daughter? Yes. Of course I do. Elder Ballard's talk pretty much killed me. (And if we don't end up with a sweet little princess to coo over and coddle, then it will be an extremely sensitive subject that I do not wish to discuss with the checkout lady at the grocery store.)
On the flip side, why is it that people assume I'm disappointed with my boys?Because I'm so, totally, NOT. I wouldn't trade a single one of my blue bundles for a pink one.
(When some dumbonthestreet person asks me if I'm sad that I have four boys, I love responding "Of course not! Couldn't be happier with my little men." Nothing kills criticism like happiness.)
Not quite sure where I'm going with this. Just that I'm buggered about the whole thing. And buggering makes for good blogging. (Or so I tell myself.)
So instead of ending with some astounding philosophical conclusion, I'll just post a few more pictures from the Renaissance Festival. Because despite me waddling around with three wee ones in tow, we still had a ball.
Now that's normal.