I don't know how you do it

"I don't know how you do it," says every person I meet when they find out we have 8 kids.

I know they are just making small-talk pleasantries and definitely not inviting me to crawl up in their lap and rock back and forth while I explain in detail how hard it really is. I know their passing comment is not an offer for a free therapy session,  but I still appreciate the superficial pleasantry because it reminds me that I am doing a hard thing. And that it's ok to be frustrated and fail and grieve when you are doing hard things because, well, it's hard.

So what's it like?  I thought I'd pull back the Facebook veil and give a sneak peak into what life is really like as a mom to 8 kids. It's not that our Facebook highlight reel isn't true. For sure the highs around here can be really high, but the lows are also really low and it's not as much fun to post that.

Granted, I know I'm not the only woman out there with 8 (or more) kids so I can't speak for everyone, but it's the hardest thing I've ever done. And maybe it's because 7 of the 8 are boys who can't seem to walk past another brother without touching, fake punching, bopping or "five-starring" him. I wish I had a dollar for everytime I said the phrase "keep your hands to yourself." The natural energy of boys is complicated by the fact that three of them have ADHD,  two have dyslexia, and one has been diagnosed with ODD (Oppositional Defiance Disorder) But by far the most humbling stastic is that in our family we have 6 little brothers. Imagine with me for a second what it means when someone says my "little brother" is driving me crazy. What does that phrase "little brother" imply? Got the image? Now multiply it times six. We have six little brothers. The pestering around here never stops- nonsense stuff like sitting right in front of the TV and blocking everyone, taking someone else's seat in the van and refusing to move, turning off the lights when someone is in the bathroom, or "accidentally" shooting someone in the face with a nerf gun. You get the picture.

And don't get me started on feeding this crew. I feel like I'm in my breast-feeding years again where it takes so much mental energy. It's not just the actual nursing the baby that's challenging, it's the constant calculating of when did they eat last? When will they eat again? Where will I be at that time? What shirt do I need to wear to be  accessible yet modest? And the big one, what am I going to do with my two year old while I nurse? It's that same mental energy all over again. Sometimes all I can accomplish in one day is to plan, shop, prepare, and clean up my children's meals. It's exhausting.

So between the sibling rivalries, the food demands, the homework, the diaper changes, the children that wake up at 6 am,  and the lotion requirements (holy cow the lotion requirements for those ashy legs)  How do we do it? This isn't a post about our faith that sustains us or how we believe so strongly in caring for orphans. This is a post for how we get through the daily grind with such a large family, for how we meet the physical and emotional needs of 8 strong, loud personalities.

For starters, and I'll start with a big one first, I've been on an antidepressant for about 6 months. Weren't expecting that huh? :) I've toyed with the idea of talking to a doctor about depression for the last three years. I distinctly remember the summer of 2013 when we had just finalized our boys adoption and I was home with all six, all day, and an always irritable, shadow version of myself.  I remember feeling scared and telling Cory- something's not right- I don't feel like myself- I'm angry all the time. We waited it out and things got better when the boys went back to school, but it was never consistently good. There were always waves of emotions knocking me down, turning me into a flat, sad zombie, especially around the time of my hormone cycles.

Then last fall I was sitting in church singing along, and between stanzas I could hear the woman directly behind me crying loudly. This woman was a friend of mine and I knew was going through some tough personal things and I knew it was the right thing to do to turn around and check on her, but I couldn't do it. I literally could not turn around and face her. I willed someone else to hear her tears and be Christ to her because I couldn't. I was so empty and spent myself, that the thought of taking on her problems on top of mine was freezing me in my chair. That's when I knew something was really wrong with me and I made an appointment with my doctor. He started me on Wellbutrin and while it took some time to perfect the right dose,  I definitely felt changes in about a week. I'm not sure if it's still helping as much, but I'm also not willing to chance it and go off the meds just yet.

Another secret to our survival is a woman named Reina. She is a sweet mom to two kids who cleans houses to help support her family. She comes to our house every Wednesday for about two hours for the low price of $30. If you are local and want her info please message me. She is great and is always looking for extra work. We don't really have the budget for it, but we make it work because it's worth it to know our carpets are vacuumed and toilets are cleaned at least once a week.

Speaking of finances -let's get personal for a bit- I'm sure it's obvious, but raising 8 kids is not cheap. I know it's taboo to talk about money, but in case there is someone reading this who has always wanted to foster or adopt but is scared of the financial demands, you need to know about subsidies. I think most people realize that foster parents get a check from the state to help cover expenses- in Texas it was about $600 a month but you have to pay for childcare if you need it, while in Arkansas it's about $400 a month, per kid, but you get free child care at participating facilities. In addition to that, not everyone realizes that families that adopt kids from foster care can continue to get money to help with expenses. If a child is adopted from foster care and meets certain requirements such as a) a sibling group, b) has special needs c) is a minority over age 2 or d) is white and over age 9 they qualify to receive money each month until the child turns 18. It's basically set up so families would be willing to adopt kids who are typically "hard to place." Don't get me started on how there are so many things wrong with an 8 year old white child having a better chance of being adopted than a 3 year old black child. That's a soap box for another day. What I'm telling you is that yes, we adopted in 2013 but still receive $1200 from the state of Texas every month and it's the only way our family would survive financially... and frankly it's also a major contributor to us surviving emotionally too. Having the subsidy money every month means that I get to work part time which is a game changer for us. It makes me hyperventilate to think about Cory and I both trying to hold down full time jobs while raising our crew. All that to say- don't let money be the thing that holds you back from letting a child grow up as a son or daughter and not a foster kid.

On a much lighter note, I would be remiss if I didn't include sarcasm as a major puzzle piece to our survival. When Cory and I first met, we bonded over lines from Tommy Boy and Dumb & Dumber. Nothing says forever love like two people quoting "We've got no food..we've got no jobs...our pets heads are falling off!" We have always shared a similar sense of humor and sarcastically uniting against our common enemy (i.e. the children) keeps this marriage strong. I'm not kidding.

Another huge component to surviving is we send our little two to daycare everyday. They are considered foster kids until the adoption finalizes so we are taking advantage of the free childcare while we still have it. Technically since I work part time, I am home some during the day and could keep them home with me, but also there's no way I can do that and be a functional alcohol-free mother:)  It has actually taken me a long time to get over the guilt of leaving them in daycare all day. I have a bit of the stay-at-home-mom martyr philosophy and struggle with the idea of "someone else raising my kids." I remember when we first got them and I was interviewing different daycares and the director for the one we chose told me they have to come everyday in order for DHS to reimburse them. My sweet naive self actually asked her if it would count if I just dropped them off for an hour or two while I ran to the store, but then came right back. I have to laugh at myself now. The only way we are surviving this summer is because the little two are in daycare.

But finally, the critical piece to our survival as a family of 10 is our community, plain and simple. You have to have a village- you just have to. Everyone's village looks different, but for us it's our friends and family that helped us buy a van, our sweet ex-neighbor who discounts summer camps for my big boys, our foster/adopt support group that understands our life, our church family that shows up week after week to teach my kids, my best girls who surprise me with birthday goodies because I am not just a mom- I'm a friend too, my fellow foster mom's who don't judge when I say "I can't do this anymore" in one breath and in the next breath say "were adopting again," the young adults at church who babysit for us and help us see our boys growth with fresh eyes from an outsiders point of view, the teachers at school who treat them as individuals and don't compare them to the other brothers, the boys birthmom who graces them with stabilty, our extended family who loves each of our kids and plays along when we tell them were adding two more...

 and last but certainly not least our dear, dear, dear friends Netflix and melatonin.

So the next time you see us out and about- there's no need to say "I don't know how you do it," because now you know our secrets. The whole point of this post is to show that we are nothing special. Seriously.  Cory's not some super-Christian's because he is a preacher and I'm not automatically a great mom just because we have so many kids. We struggle at it everyday, and I don't mean struggle with saintly smiles on our faces or our hands always folded together in prayer. Raising 8 kids is hard. Just last week I told Cory, "I can't believe this is my life" with a sentimental glow and then the same afternoon cried in my pillow "I can't believe this is my life" out of desperation, aching to get off the rollercoaster.

We simply believe that too whom much is given, much is expected, and we have been given much. What about you? How much have you been given? What are you doing with it? If foster care or adoption is on your heart and you have questions, we'd love to help you find the answers.