The post in which we go snowshoeing with too many small kids in tow ...

Every now and then I find myself abstractly imagining life with ... fewer kids. (And it does not escape me that 40 — that scripturally symbolic number suggesting a great length of time — often full of significant  testing — is just about the number of years that will have passed between our first child arriving ... and our youngest being ready to leave home!)

It’s a moot wondering of course. Fewer kids would, I suppose, mean the unthinkable: that some specific individuals would actually be missing (rather than having them all here ... but somehow equaling less). It would mean no Mette showing me a little boy-doll the other day and saying, “This is the boy we found at Chuk-A-Rama. He told me he has no mom, so can we keep him?” (Incidentally, that’s exactly how we ended up with such a large number of children to begin with. We just kept bringing them home from Chuck-A-Rama.) It would mean no Hans rummaging through a bin of colored blocks, finding just the right ones, placing them in a ceramic bowl to make “jello” and saying, “Mom, are you thinking what I’m thinking?”, me laughing, “I don’t know -- what are you thinking?”, and him responding, “I’m just thinking nothing [mumble mumble] jello.” (Of course that was what I was thinking.) And it would mean no Anders for Mike to make a “kitty litter” school Valentine’s box with. (Complete with a stuffed animal cat and tootsie-rolls shaped to represent ... well, you can probably imagine what.) (Why? Whyyyyy?) I mean, for heaven's sake, just this morning I watched Starling flatten herself out and push with her tiny, soft bare legs in an attempt to get far enough under our bed to reach the pink slipper she'd somehow spotted. (I almost died over the utter joy of that glorious, little scene.)

So. Obviously fewer kids would never truly do.

Nevertheless, it is a fact that snowshoeing last month would have been a great deal more enjoyable sans a third or so of our children. (Bless their little souls.) 

But! The older kids had a great time. And it was fun to watch them hiking blithely along through so much snow. 

We'd gone snowshoeing during Hansie's birthday weekend up at Bear Lake. He's three now! Numbers are a funny thing with my little mob of extra-closely spaced children. In my mind they are 3, 2, and 1. But somehow the youngest of that group has moved into the age spot of the oldest. How? Shrug. I don't know. They are now 3, 4, and 5 (and there is some other little interloper on the cusp of 1). I can't make sense of one bit of it. 

To end: a few more bits of life around here with 800 billion children.

Weather: We had a Sunday a few weeks ago so warm that Penny and Starling stayed out in our hammock for a good hour or so. It turned to blizzard and below freezing temps the very next day. But it's nice get a few little hints of spring! The warm(er) day here or there, robins in our backyard, and night setting in a bit later, etc. 

Drawing: This first picture of Summer's gave me a good chuckle. "Look! I drew a mom just like you!" she said. That stern brow. That reprimanding finger. It's me! The second picture? Well. Clearly Jesse and Anders are influencing her artwork. 

Goldie spent an entire Saturday collecting food outside our local grocery store. (Luckily it was one of those slightly warmer days.)

It's rare for us all to be leaving church together (it's only half a block so we rarely drive). The girls will have choir, someone will have a meeting, someone else will have a class going long (that everyone else tires waiting for). But this Sunday we all stayed after for Jesse to be ordained a deacon in the Aaronic priesthood. (And by all of us … I mean all of us but Abe of course. I'm always aware of that empty spot in our whole.)

Just a scene as dinner was mostly finished up one evening. Seemed like the sort of thing I might forget about and kind of miss when those 40 years are passed. 

And last of all: I walked past our entry-way mirror one Sunday and was startled to realize that I matched perfectly with the small child I was holding! Which seems a lovely note to end this post on.