Shoved to Them
The two girls and I are sick. We have the stomach yuck that the boys had last week. We’re not dying or anything, just curled up under warm blankets, eating dry toast, and watching television…and blogging, of course. #4’s warm little body is curled up next to mine and the deliciousness of her body heat is making me drowsy.
The boys are making their way slowly through their schoolwork, unsupervised. Every now and again I hear the not-quite-patient voice of #2 explaining math to his younger brother. #5 keeps popping in and out of the room to lay his chubby almost-3-year-old hand upon my forehead and then his head upon my chest. He shakes his head at us and says “Sowwy sick. Wuv oo.” and then goes back to the bowl of cereal his brothers keep refilling to keep him quiet and happy. #1 is dozing in her own bed and alternating between sleeping and geometry homework. I don’t blame her, geometry makes me sleep, too.
Sick children, a never ending stream of sick children, is part of the horror of big families. I get asked repeatedly what we do when we all get sick. I don’t know how to explain it in ways that people who’ve never had a large family can understand. We just love each other. We see the gaps in what needs to be done, and step into the holes. My 10 year old did the dishes this morning because I was too nauseated to do it myself. My 8 year old took the nasty towels to the laundry room when his sister complained about the mustiness of them. He even brought a fresh one for her while she showered.
There is no magic to it. It is simply a family. Large and chaotic when we’re all healthy, but compassionate and considerate when we are not. It’s not a trick; it’s simply love. I don’t know how you teach them to be this way, they simply see the love of their parents for them and for each other, and assume that this is how the world should be. This is truly one of the greatest benefits of large families, and I am so grateful for it
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