Mrs. Lynde

"Folks that has brought up children know that there's no hard and fast method in the world that'll suit every child.  But them as never have think it's all as plain and easy as Rule of Three- just set your three terms down so fashion, and the sum'll work out correct.  But flesh and blood don't come under the head of arithmetic..."

~ Mrs. Rachel Lynde, Anne of Green Gables

L.M. Montgomery

Raising kids is hard.  We often, laughingly say, we are "off, like a herd of turtles".  It really should't even be a herd of turtles, it should be a quora of turtles.  But no one can ever remember that, so herd is what we use.  I'm not sure what a real herd of turtles looks like, but in my mind, it is a bunch of  moving creatures going to twenty different directions and thirty different speeds.  Usually we aren't as slow as turtles, quite the opposite.  Maybe a should say,  we are "off like a bunch of bunnies being chased by a fox", that may be more appropriate.  And if you have ever had the pleasure of seeing my kids empty out of the van, you will understand my phrasing.  

When my oldest was a toddler and it was just him, we had this magnet that we stuck on the van.  I had painted a blue dinosaur on it and it said "The Circle of Safety".  When I unloaded him, he was told to put his hand on the dinosaur while I got whatever else I needed. If he was touching the dino, he was not running into the parking lot. 

And then, there were triplets.

When I started teaching my oldest, he just "got" math.  It wasn't hard (except for ordinal numbers, but skittles fixed that) for him to understand.  He didn't always want to do the worksheets, but that was no biggie.  He knew what was going on.  

And then, the girls were school age.

Showing the kids how to stir a bowl of cookie dough.   Simple.

And then, I had two left handed kids.

I have six kids.  Six personalities. Six different tastes in clothing.  Six different food preferences.  Six different responses to schooling.  Six ways to discipline.  Six was to think and act and do.  

I often complain about intricacies and the difficulties.  Then there are times I sit back and enjoy the uniqueness.  Right now they are having an epic battle.  I have broken up about 10 fights and am ready to send them all to their rooms.  But. In the middle of the battle, Baby Bird decided to head up the stairs.  She made it up one step before one of the soldiers stopped her game to play with Birdie to follow her upstairs and pound on the tiger xylophone.

In the battle, a boy and a girl disagreed as to the rules (which they make up as they go along which is part of the problem).  The other two boys united with the third boy.  Not fair to the lone girl, but they united.  

We are about to eat breakfast and they will sit at the table and eat together and probably argue and make plans and laugh and make too much noise.  But their little individual pieces make up our unit. It drives me crazy 99% of the time, but without it I think I would be lost.  

Raising kids is definitely not arithmetic.  It's like trying to read ancient text before the Rosetta Stone was found.  It's hard. 

I am taking heart that it is a season.  A really, really long season.  A season that rains and suns, is wet and dry, cold and warm.  A season, I am told, that I will miss.  A season that is difficult, but worth the effort. I pray I don't miss the golden moments of the days and the rainbows hiding just around the corner.  I pray I see the differences and grin.  I pray I can train these rascals in God honoring ways and that, one day, I can look back with a genuine smile and praise Him for helping me muddle through it.