Large family. Large blessings. Large mayhem.

Did you know that the average family size in the US for 2017 was 3.14 people? I know a lot of people who fit perfectly into that average family size (well, not that they have 14% of a person in their family, but you get my point!). Most of my friends have somewhere from 1 to 3 kids and they are perfectly content. And that is wonderful for them!

I always had slightly different plans…. For as long as I can remember, I’ve wanted six kids. (Seriously, I had six names picked out for my future children by the time I was twelve.) Four kids didn’t seem like enough, but five gave you a single middle child (not a bad thing, but not what I thought I wanted), so six seemed like the perfect option!

And here I am, 8 years into starting my family and I already have five amazing babies. It’s the perfect amount for me for right now (I might still get my sixth one day!). I wouldn’t change it for anything, but our family certainly causes a lot of raised eyebrows when we’re all out together. Just today, a woman at the doctor’s office did a silent head count of my kids with her eyes as big as dinner plates. I’ve been asked if they’re all mine, am I babysitting, do I know how “that” happens, or my personal favorite of the “things you should never ask a pregnant woman”: what kind of birth control do you want so you “don’t have any more”. Yeah, that happened.

I get it. We stick out. We’re not the norm. But it is disappointing that the size of my family is rarely seen as my choice and more viewed as poor reproductive knowledge. Believe me, I know how they happened.

I have always said that my greatest attributes are my children. They are, hands down, the best thing about me. Yes, they make me crazy and they test every ounce of my patience. Yes, they aren’t perfect little angels all the time. But if we’re being honest, I don’t need perfect angels. I need toddlers laughing maniacally because they’re older brother is blowing bubbles for them in the living room. I need my oldest daughter scooping up the newborn to soothe him while I just finish that oooone last thing. I need a five year old that doesn’t stop talking. Ever. Seriously. EVER.

It’s messy and chaotic and wonderful and perfect. And I love my way above average family size more than I could ever articulate in this post. Large blessings. Large mayhem. Large love.