There are some moments where something will pop into my head or something will happen that will make me pause and consider my childhood.
After going into and then writing about Mammoth Cave, I have thought about that trip my family took back in the day. I did the calculations and, at this very same age that I currently find myself, my Mother (and, yes Dad, you did, too) had to coordinate the lives of children the following ages:
- 17-year-old girl
- 15 – girl
- 14 – girl
- 13 – boy
- 12 – boy
- 11 – girl
- 7 – girl
- 5 – boy
- 3 – cutest, most precocious girl you’ve ever seen
And, not only did they coordinate daily life, they took us to Louisville?! And brought us into the world’s largest cave?
Seriously, I have two girls and I think I’m losing my mind half of the time. How did they manage to cloth us, feed us, make sure homework was done, make lunches, coordinate activities, meet with teachers, etc., and keep their our personal relationship going?
And my girls haven’t even hit the puberty, teenage angst, boyfriend drama days. Mom and Dad had three teen girls (OK, Julie was a self-acknowledge geek but still, there had to have been hormonal spaz outs – we all have that in our DNA) to deal with when we were all together.
And to make matters worse, I don’t ever remember them stressing out or going crazy on us. How is that even possible with that many rug rats running around in a small house?
God bless ’em.
And while He’s at it, maybe He can bless me with some of that patience.