“You have how many kids?”
January 10, 2007
“Wow, how can you possibly love that many?”
“I don’t. I just fake it.”
This has to rank up there as one of the oddest exchanges I have had. As if love is somehow finite and can be used up. Ooops, sorry children numbers 5 through 7 my capacity for love has reached it’s maximum. Too bad for you!
I have a had quite a few people ask me why I don’t write about my older children as much as I do the younger ones. I suppose if you don’t know me personally it gives the impression that I don’t care about them as much, or that I don’t have as loving thoughts about them (Some of them are approaching teenagerhood, if I let them live that long.) The reality is that my oldest ones have reached an age where I feel protective of their privacy.
They don’t color on walls, strip off their clothes and run around the house naked. They don’t look really cute with food smeared all over their faces. They have thoughts that are all their own and I feel privileged that they share them with me. They also don’t change much month to month.
I would never want to embarass them by writing things about them publicly. I do write them letters on the their birthdays and I write things that I want to remember, but are not neccessarily for public consumption. Those things I chose not to publish. Like the 3400 photos I took of all my children last year, really you should thank me.
It is a balancing act.
The letter I wrote to my oldest son on his twelfth birthday should be my next post I have published over at dotmoms. I haven’t written over there in several months, having taken a bit of a break. But when it comes up I’ll let you know.
Rest assured all my children are well loved, cherished, and special to me as individuals. And they are all funny as hell. I am lucky. More lucky than I truly deserve.
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