The Making of M.O.M.

We've been asked at least a thousand times if we wanted a big family from the beginning. In short, the answer to that is no.

For the most part, Luke and I both grew up as only children. When we were doing premarriage counseling, we only skimmed the surface of talking about the size of the family we would have. Maybe 3, I think, was the number we settled on.

But here's the problem. We went from 1 baby to 3 babies in just 2 pregnancies spaced apart by only 22 months. From double coverage to zone coverage. We never played man-to-man coverage. And the biggest problem of all?

Hello, my name is Jessica and I am addicted to newborns.

I just love everything about them. From their too-big skin, to the tiny noises they make to the way they stick their tiny little butts out when they stretch. And the head smell? Intoxicating. I read recently that there was a scientific study that confirmed that there really is a chemical reaction that occurs in women when they smell the head of a newborn. What person on earth didn't already know this was happening?

But you know what else I love? All of it.

I love the 6 month old who belly laughs at the ridiculousness of her 8 year old sister. Because, y'all, this right here makes me want to have 8 more. I can't even handle that laugh.

The two year old with the butt cheek hanging out of her panties? I love that. The way she calls EVERY.SINGLE.BUG. a "pink bug!" (stink bug). The way she seems to grow during just one nap time and wakes up speaking in fuller sentences than she did just a couple hours ago, makes my head spin and my heart swell.

The 4 year old who is old enough to understand how to make a joke and is usually the first to laugh at their own hilarity. The 6 year old who begins to read overnight and the almost 10 year old who has her own style. I mean, those boots. That skirt. I couldn't pull that off, ever. I mean, hello, SIDE PONYTAIL.

I love it. All of it. This gig of motherhood and watching these people grow is, by far, the best thing I've ever been allowed to experience. I just knew Ella would be our last biological baby. And then, well, Abigail happened.

I just knew Abigail would be the last birth, nursing experience and toddler that would come from my womb. And, you know, EVELYN.

I'm so glad we didn't stop having babies at our predetermined number of 3. I can't imagine all the life, laughter and joy we'd have missed out on.* Yes, it's hard. It's hard a lot lately. Luke and I haven't had a date in WAY TOO LONG. Every night, I fall into bed for a couple hours before I begin the up and down that is my nighttime. I'm exhausted and tired and I would love to have a couple of hours to myself every day just to sit in silence. I think about a few years from now if we don't have any more babies and all the ways our lives would seemingly be easier. But I know that easy is a lie that Moms buy all the time. No matter how many kids you have your life as a mom is never easy.

Is Evelyn our last baby? Who knows. We've always kept the option of adoption open. I don't plan on being pregnant again. Ever. Ever.

But I've said that before. And each of those time I really meant it.

And if I watch that video of Evelyn belly laughing enough, I'll toss that idea right out the window. Or maybe not. Maybe we will stick to it and not birth anymore babies and adopt a few kids who need a large, crazy family and live out our days.

So to answer the question ~~of all of you nosey people who ask me while standing in the grocery store~~ people want to know, I'm sure:

Are you going to have any more babies?

Short answer. Probably not. But who knows. Because all of this, this life. It's hard. But then my almost 6 month old belly laughs and my ovaries kick into high gear and I question every oath I took during her pregnancy that I would never, ever, ever again do this. And I maybe send my husband a text about wanting a homebirth next time. So, you know, there's THAT.

I'm off to watch that video of my baby belly laughing while simultaneously taking whiffs of hot trash in our garbage dumpster so I can remember what morning sickness feels like.

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* By no means do I think that having 3 kids or less means you're missing out or that everyone should have a big, crazy, colony of kids. I'm just saying that for us, stopping at 3 wouldn't have been right.

When we were in college, Luke dated an athlete. She was a college volleyball player who spent around 4 hours in the gym on any given day. When she wasn't in the gym she was usually wearing workout clothes. And even if she wasn't wearing work out clothes, she was probably wearing jeans and a tshirt because she grew up in the country and she liked to go barefoot. And fancy clothes and bare feet don't exactly go well together in public.

Rumor has it that at their wedding she took off her shoes and went barefoot at their reception. At the country club. Classy.

Point being, I've never been a trendy person. Fashion was always something I sort of noticed but never really practiced myself. Partly because being fashionable seems to me to take a lot of work. And let's face it, my daily life is enough work. Amen.

I have a small box of jewelry but it literally never crosses my mind to wear any of it. I have a pair of earrings that I've been wearing basically non-stop for the last 3 years. I put them in one night for date night and they were so comfortable I just forgot to take them out. 3 years later. Yes. It's true.

But aside from those and my wedding rings, it is a rarity that I wear jewelry.

Sort of like my showering schedule. Rare-i-ty.

I have long, curly-ish hair. Which means, if I'd rather not look like I rolled directly out of bed and into the car, I have 2 hair options. Wash, condition it LOTS, and load it down with mousse and gel and prayer.

Or wear it pulled up in a ball of mess on my head just like I did in college for all of my days.

In the summer in the south it's up a lot. Because: HUMIDITY.

Like I said, I notice trends and styles for the most part. Mostly because I have an almost 10 year old and she keeps me informed. So yesterday was not ~~shower day~~ hair washing day and I knew this. So on Monday night I found myself in front of the mirror attempting a super cute side ponytail braid.

In my head I aspired to something like this:

(Just a side note: as I searched images to put on this post of "side ponytail braid curly hair" I basically saw all the ones I thought were messy, yet attainable, were on famous people. Which means, they are probably anything but easy and attainable.)

At any rate, I braided my hair, turned to my husband and said, "What do you think? Do you like it?"

He looked at me, and since our relationship is built on trust and honesty and love he said, "You look like a homeschool mom." And he may have mumbled something about a denim jumper.

I rolled my eyes, because, you know I am a homeschool mom.

So the next morning I got up and thought I'd try this side braid again, sans Homeschool Dad. But, I lack confidence in anything trendy because I know that I'm trying and likely failing. Because, isn't the point of being trendy is not trying to look trendy and like you tried too hard?

Yes, yes it is.

So, I braided my hair and promptly sent a picture to Amanda and asked her what she thought. Here's that pic.

It is also basically impossible for me to take a selfie. I just can't. At least not one with any normalcy or a shred of seriousness.

Amanda gave her vote of approval (several times), told me homeschool moms wear buns and denim (BOOYAH Homeschool Dad!) and so off I went with all 8 kids for a day of ~~chaos~~ errands. It occurred to me after I was 20 minutes down the road that I forgot my back up hair tie around my wrist. It's sort of my security blanket because if hair tie A breaks or if I decide to ditch freshly washed and prayed over hair, I always have one on my wrist and I know that I can throw the hair up and call it a day.

I panicked. Then I breathed through it and remembered that I'm trendy. And I've delivered 6 babies out of my lady parts so I'm tough. Plus, I'm recently fashionable.

It's FINE.

We went to the orthodontist and then, for good behavior had a brunch of Chickfila. All was sailing smoothly until it was time to exit Chickfila. Aaron called a kid on the playground fat, Abigail is a regressing potty trainer and Evelyn was sleepy. It was the perfect storm.

We loaded into our 15 passenger van, (that doesn't scream trendy but more so HOMESCHOOLERS), which I had parked by the door, in a spot that was sandwiched between the building and the drive thru line. When I parked there I thought to myself, "Self. This is a bad idea. Large vehicles and ridiculous drive through lines don't mix." But then I thought about my exit strategy and how wrangling all those kids across a busy parking lot would make me stroke out and I pulled that beast into that compact car spot and told myself we'd leave before the lunch crowd came.

We did not.

I went to leave, I shifted into reverse, took my foot off the brake and we love tapped our bumper against a sweet, little old lady's 2014 Altima. The beast was fine. The Altima was not.

After police were called, Abigail peed in her car seat, I HAD TO PEE, it was hotter than anywhere else on the planet.

We FINALLY made it home. Abigail pooped her pants. It was naptime. We needed to leave in 2 hours for ballet.

Basically, it was a totally normal day other than the literal fender bender. I got Abigail bathed and in the bed and looked in the mirror.

Let's just say, there's a reason why I'm not trendy.

We went to ballet. Then baseball practice. And Luke came home to his wife looking basically like that college athlete he married ~~plus 50 pounds~~.

And I learned a lesson. Stay with what you know. And don't forget the backup hair tie. Ever.