And Zen What

Probably the most frequently asked question in my life of late is "How do you DO it?!" where "it" refers, mainly, to having 6 kids. And while I am no less prickly about invasive questions than the average adoptive parent, for some reason I still have a lot of patience for this one. (Unlike, say, the question once asked me by a Dad at a soccer practice: looking at my sweet, loving, gorgeous Four, who was about 5--I know this is confusing--at the time, he asked me: "What is he?")

Where was I? Oh yeah, well, the fact of the matter is that a lot of times I don't do it.

For example, when "it" refers to the house in which I rear the Mighty 6 pack. I don't do it. But it does get done.

Yes, my floors are often blanketed with toys, toy parts, school papers, crayons, stale bagel chunks (they get really really hard--did you know that?), rock collections, beached pirate ships, loaded water pistols, legos of all sizes and foot injury ratings, ping pong balls (did you know, by the way, that ping pong balls can't be flushed down toilets? whether this is a good or bad thing, only time will tell), books, marooned batteries (post-intitutionalized kids who are recently home--say, up to a year--have a thing about removing batteries), magnetic alphabet letters, cut-out newspaper articles that didn't make it into school projects, socks---many, many, many socks and each blessed one of 'em probably the sole survivor of a long-gone pair, the odd piece of silverware, and so very much more.

But, as I tell the children, that's why I have kids. To put the stuff on the floor, and to pick up the stuff off the floor.

They think this is child abuse. But I set the timer anyway. Twenty minutes (and some Mo-om!!! motivation--"Ok, but no computer time if you don't help....") later, we sight tile. And grout, even.

And here's the other important part of how I (don't) do it. Kids play with each other. And fight with each other. And plot (against the Evil Mo-om!!!, natch) with each other. And develop interests with and against each other.

Now, when One was the only one, I didn't know any of this. I knew it from my childhood, of course, but that was "back then" in the Neolithic. Things are different now, I told myself--and in fact they really are.

For one thing, the child care industry has taken over the universe. One was my first and the industry was busy telling me about the 3 zillion ways I could mess her up--avoidance of which required about 56 hours a day of concentrated one-on-one time.

For another, kids don't hang out in neighborhoods anymore, at least they don't where I live. So when my mother had enough of the four of us, she kicked us outside. We griped, of course, but we also griped when it was finally time to come in. If I sent One outside to play, I had to go with her.

When One was an only, she didn't have other kids in the house or in easy reach to develop bargaining behaviors with, to practice having conflicts with, to model and to reject and re-model and re-reject habits and strategies of living with. She had to do all that with me. Pretty daunting for a 3 year old, to have to spend ALL her oppositional developing against the All Powerful Mom.

I'm not saying I don't cherish the memories of our "alone" time. What I am saying is that the trade-offs are not all negative. Two, Three, Four, Five and Six are hardier when it comes to conflict; One tends to save it all up till it bursts out, huge and unmanageable. I think this is a residual effect of trying to avoid it as long as possible when she was tiny. Now she's less tightly wound, and partly that is because she has little sibs to pick on and be picked on by (and yes, I do intervene before actual bloodshed).

She also has sibs enough to organize a seemingly unending series of games in the yard. Yes, in my house that old 50s/60s parental battlecry, "GO OUTSIDE AND PLAY RIGHT NOW!" is once again heard--often enough by all the neighbors as well as my kids. They play as a whole pack for a while, then they break down into smaller caucuses, then re-form into a pack again. They tire each other out, have fun, learn valuable life skills--the kind all those child-rearing books are always harping on--and I don't have to be point on all of it. I can save my game for the big stuff. The other big stuff that is. Life lessons. How to do the laundry. That type of stuff.

So. How do I do it? Simple. I don't. But they do.

And I can't imagine for the life of me how people who only have one or two kids do it.

If you want to make your life easier, adopt another kid. Maybe 2. Or more. Come on, aren't you just dying to holler "GO OUTSIDE AND PLAY RIGHT NOW!" and sit down, without guilt, with a cup of tea and the newspaper?

Go ahead--you know you want to.......just, y'know, check it out. It can't hurt to Google around about it, right?

Just one little search--try entering: waiting kids [insert country].

Go to the website and Google right now. I'm going to finish my tea and read the paper.