We have five. Not a lot by our grandparents standards, and nothing compared to the amazing Imelda with 11, but a huge family by modern standards. House hunting for our crew is turning out to be much more interesting than we thought it would be. There are not many choices in our price range in the size that we need.
Then there are the stunned silences. The mortgage broker, the real estate agent's secretary, the neighbors of the houses we have looked at. We tell them we are looking for 5 bedrooms or more and as many bathrooms as possible. (We all know that nature will call everyone at once.) Then the same sentiment bubbles out of them, rising to the surface before they can even stop it...."Are you done?" and my favorite "Do you want more?" All asked with a special brand of wide eyed incredulity. I'll answer it once and for all, for all of you.
Yes. Maybe not today, or in the near future, but yes. We would be happy with any new person God sends our way. We didn't plan the ones we have, and it has worked out so well, why start now?
Why? Because I can't imagine a time when I will look at my husband, this wonderful man whom I adore, and say "I don't want to have your children." I don't want to imagine a day when he tells me that he no longer wants to have babies with me. This is a marriage. We give ourselves to each other totally, holding nothing back, not even our fertility. If that means a house-full of children...well, please God may we be so lucky.
Other people can have their small families with their one perfect child. I can understand the appeal of this lifestyle. I just choose not to live it. After looking at all the houses we've seen so far, we have decided only that we don't want a designer show house with everything "just so" where a family lives a quiet and orderly life. We want a rambling sprawling place with a good sized back yard where the kids can run and play, and wrestle around on the floor without having to worry about leaving marks on the floors or walls.
This is the life for me. Loud and loving, rambunctious and wild until they collapse in a heap like a pile of worn out puppies. I don't want a perfect house. Not now. I can see the beauty of it, and it appeals to me for sure, but I don't think we could be happy there. We need quirky and odd, fun and easy. It's a wild ride, but I wouldn't want to wake up anywhere else.