you made your bed . . .

one hand typing, hence, no caps.

it finally happened.

a man, a good man, a friend, said it out loud.

"well," he said, with an embarrassed sort of little chuckle, "you made your bed, you sleep in it."

you remember the old nursery rhyme, there was an old woman who lived in a shoe, she had so many children she didn't know what to do.

i'm her. i am the old woman who lived in a shoe. but i picked the shoe. i wanted the shoe, and i wanted so many children [in fact, truth be told, i'd really like to have or get several more], so, if i don't know what to do, i can't complain. it's my own fault!

that little recording plays in my head from time to time, comes across in the form of a raised eyebrow, or a less-than-enthusiastic response to a pregnancy announcement. but to hear someone actually say it out loud, oi-vey. bummer.

must i always guard my tongue and facebook status updates? never make it look bad. don't complain. people are watching. people are listening. don't give them another reason to believe children are a burden, not a blessing.

this is a valid point. it is true. it is right. i don't want to be the poster child for why people shouldn't have big families. it is better if my kids don't go out in public looking like they don't have parents. better to have hair combed, clothes matching, fitting, and appropriate to the season [5th son went to church Sunday wearing shorts, sandals and his last year's winter coat, what!?], nails trimmed, ear gunk removed (hand out the baby wipes, folks).

at the same time, my very existence is based on the fact that i live for an audience of One. if i truly cared what people think, i would never have had so many humans. having lots of children is not popular, not politically correct, not socially advancing.

of course, somewhere is wisdom. i suppose the thing the Bible says about fasting, not wearing sack cloth and looking like crap, getting dressed and looking good, and your Father who sees in secret, that whole thing applies somewhat. having thousands of children is kind of a fast. i'm fasting "normal".

but there is also an element of being real, that allows other people to be real. if you have 13 children, you don't have to be as perfect as the Duggars. you don't have to look camera ready. you don't have to always speak with a sweet gentle voice and have toddlers trained to stay on their blankets for an hour quietly while you teach school.

we have a joke at my house. i will frequently, after yelling or saying something horribly inappropriate, remark snidely, "and yes, that is exactly what Mrs. Duggar would say."

because i think some of the people watching are encouraged by how i treat my children even though they don't look perfect. and i think some parents are relieved to hear that i have hard days and feel overwhelmed and am behind on laundry. because if i have it all together with 13, where does that put them, sucking with only 2 or 3?

so, okay, i'll try not to whine too much, and i'll try to look presentable and bathe from time to time and i'll honor my husband by combing their hair and keeping the house more or less clean. ish. but i will not obsess with trying to make our family the model of the beauty of a large family. we're not. the Duggars are. that's why they're on TV.

i'm just me. the little ole amazing supermom, trying to have clean spoons, relatively matching socks, and kids that are kind and obey. sometimes.