Is a No-Gift Christmas with Kids Really Possible?

Have you ever come to dread something you once loved? Last Christmas, I realized that even though I looked forward to the cookies, the lights, the general goodwill in the air, and of course the special religious meaning for my family, I also felt an overwhelming desire to hide under the covers and not come out until January. 

The problem was my family's gift-giving, which had gotten out of hand. We were spending way too much time, effort, and money on stuff that didn't add value to our kids' lives, and on top of it all the house was always a disaster because it was too much for any of us to organize and manage. 

So we simply quit giving the kids gifts at Christmas. No more toys. No more stuff. 

How did our first no-gift Christmas go? Would we do it again? And would it ever in a million years work in your family? 

Here's everything you ever wanted to know about going gift-free this Christmas, but were afraid to ask.

Q: What did your Christmases look like before?

We used to get each kid four presents, plus one from Santa. That doesn't sound excessive, but with 6 kids it quickly added up, and when you added in extra toys and gadgets from extended family members it was way too much. 

I know it's a privilege being able to complain about having too much stuff, but it certainly doesn't feel like a privilege when you're drowning in it.

Q: What does a no-gift Christmas look like?

A: Each child gets one experience gift from us, and that's it. The only tangible items they receive are a stocking filled by Santa, one physical gift from Santa, and whatever their grandparents choose to get them.

Q: Were the kids actually on board with this?

A: We started by having a family meeting. We explained to the kids we wanted to avoid waste and focus on doing stuff together instead of giving stuff. At first they were skeptical (especially the younger ones,) but once they started making lists of fun places they've always wanted to go they got excited about it.

Q: Wait a minute. Wasn't Christmas Day super-lame without gifts to open?

Well, they still have a few gifts to unwrap from Santa and their grandparents. But aside from that, we tried to make the experience of opening the experience gifts fun by printing out a certificate for each experience and packaging it creatively. 

We rolled up the 5-year-old's certificate and stuck it in a balloon for him to pop, and the 13-year-old's went in this folded paper pyramid. In future years maybe we'll wrap certificates in a bunch of boxes inside each other, have them follow a strand of yarn all over the house to find it, make a scavenger hunt, or write it in a scrambled language to decode.

Q: What kind of experience gifts did you give?

We're big believers in family time over individual date nights with each child, so it felt natural for us to include everyone who was able to participate in each experience. Here's what we did last year:

5yo: Trampoline park for the whole family

7yo: Laser tag for the whole family

10yo: Escape room for one parent and the 3 kids who were old enough

13yo: Adult go-kart racetrack for one parent and all kids who met the height requirement

15yo: Virtual reality room for the teenagers and a parent

17yo: Semester of piano lessons at a local music school (not exactly a family experience, but it was something she really, really wanted)

We found a lot of ideas by searching our city on Groupon and Trip Advisor. You could try indoor skydiving, pop-up museums, an overnight hotel stay with a pool and pizza for dinner, or one of those pay-by-the-pound ice cream places where you do all the toppings. The experiences could even be free: a cool sledding hill they've never been to before, or an "anything goes" night where they stay up late and create the itinerary.

Q: How did your first giftless Christmas go?

Every time we drove home from one of those experiences with the kids talking about it excitedly with each other in the backseat, I felt like we'd done the right thing. This year there was no wasted time and effort tracking down presents no one used, no landfill of wrapping paper and packaging waste in the living room, no meltdowns the week afterward trying to organize the avalanche of toys. I even heard my 10-year-old exclaim several times at the escape room "This is the best Christmas present EVER!!!"

Q: Were there any downsides to not exchanging gifts at Christmas?

A: It was challenging to juggle so many people's schedules to find a time to actually do all the experience gifts. We tried to complete as many as possible in the week between Christmas and New Years, but we didn't finish all of them until March. Also, our no-gift Christmas was not cheap. Most people assume we saved a ton of money, but obviously eight admissions to the trampoline park costs more than a few plastic toys. In all, it probably ended up costing about the same as before.

Q: Any tips for me if I want to try a no-gift Christmas with my family?

A: In the past, we'd tried encouraging extended family members to get us experience gifts, which was met with mixed reactions and didn't work well for a variety of reasons. We found it was much easier to fix our own gift-giving and let everyone else do what they felt comfortable with.

Start out by clearly deciding what you're trying to accomplish with a no-gift Christmas: to be more environmentally conscious? more responsible with your money? less overwhelmed by the number of toys in the house? Involve the kids, come up with a plan, and commit to trying it for just one year. Explain you can always go back if they don't like it.

Q: What if I want to downsize Christmas but I'm not ready to give up gifts altogether?

Dip your toes in by giving experience gifts with a small related trinket, like a zoo pass with a dollar store bag of plastic animals or tickets for a monster truck rally with a Hot Wheels vehicle. It will get you and your kids used to the idea without going completely cold-turkey.

You can also explore other ways to ease your holiday burnout. If there's Christmas decor you don't really like putting up, get rid of it. Ask your family their favorite Christmas traditions and eliminate the ones on the bottom of the list. Deep down you probably know what should be cut out to make things simpler, you just need to give yourself permission to do it.

We're heading into our second no-gift Christmas, and I couldn't be more excited. It's freeing not to orchestrate who's getting what with a literal spreadsheet starting in September, and I know that the day after Christmas I'll wake up to a calendar of fun things to do with my kids instead of a house full of clutter and chaos. At least, not any more full of it than usual.

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10 Things You Learn When You Have a Big Family

I have 6 children, a fact that lands like an atom bomb when routine small talk prompts the question "Do you have kids?" 

People usually respond in one of two ways: either they dust themselves off and change the subject like nothing ever happened, or they stammer something like "What... How?! I mean — I'm sorry, did you say SIX?"

I think they mean it as a compliment.

I think they also mean "What in the world is your life like? Because I certainly can't envision it, not even for a moment."

Drawing a family portrait on the driveway requires a full box of chalk and a nap.

And so for the folks who find themselves unable to string together the coherent question they probably want to ask, I'd like to share 10 things I've learned from parenting my large brood:

1. Some things just don't matter. Who cares if the baby wears pajamas all day, or whether those pajamas coincide with their gender? Who has time to argue with a toddler who wants to wear their pants backward or carry a potato around in public like it's a stuffed animal? Out of necessity, parents with a lot of kids have figured out what's ultimately not that important, and like Elsa, have let it go.

2. You can't actually die from repeating yourself a million times. Even if I say the same thing six times, I've still only told everyone once. (And for the record, the number of times my kids have remembered something the first time they're told is zero.) With a big family, you spend all day dispensing information on an infinite loop and someone still ends up going "WHAT?? WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME?!"

3. You've only got things figured out until you have a kid who proves you wrong. It's easy to luck out and have one or two kids with "easy" personalities, sleeping habits, eating preferences, or health profiles. But your likelihood of having these magical unicorn children decreases with every baby you have, and sooner or later you'll be forced to admit that your stellar parenting had less to do with it than you originally thought.

4. It's possible to raise a baby (or two or three) in a minivan. Once you have multiple big kids involved in multiple activities, you don't schedule around your little kid's naptimes. Their "crib" has a 5-point harness now, and naptime is whenever you're commuting from dance practice to play rehearsal and back to catch the last 30 minutes of the junior high basketball game.

5. Kids are more capable than you think. It surprised me the first time my 3-year-old crawled up on the counter and made himself a sandwich because I was busy. After that, I came to depend on it.

6. It's usually a phase. Most things that I worried about when my kids were little ended up resolving themselves without developing into lifelong problems. By all means, keep an eye on it if you notice something unusual about your kid — but don't freak out. They'll probably grow out of it.

7. Even if you look like you know what you're doing, you probably don't. By virtue of having 6 kids who aren't yet in juvenile prison, people honestly seem to believe I have it all together, saying things like "I don't know how you do it, I can barely handle my two!" Considering that I feel like a complete dumpster fire 95% of the time, their admiration may be a little misplaced.

8. If you can teach multiple teenagers to drive, you can do anything. You no longer fear death. In fact, you regularly stare it down as you get in the passenger's seat and unflinchingly hand the keys to someone you remember teaching how to use a spoon.

9. Teamwork makes the dream work. The disaster regularly produced by 8 people living together can best be expressed by a quote from the venerable Dr. Seuss: "This mess is so big and so deep and so tall, we cannot pick it up; there is no way at all." When I mobilize the troops, though, it's amazing how fast we can whip the place back into shape.

10.  It's all about the fighting-to-playing ratio. Big families spend a lot of time together, and it's a truth of life that kids who play together are also going to step on each others' toes. I think my kids get along really well, but that's not to say they don't also argue like they're going for an Olympic medal sometimes. (Side note: watching your kids play together is pure heaven on earth, and there's simply no love like sibling love.)

Whether you're seriously interested in my large family or just gawking like those drivers who slow down to check out accidents on the freeway, I hope this list is helpful. Now you can picture a little bit better what life is like in a big family!

(I didn't mention the laundry, but that's probably for the best. You don't want to know.)

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30 Things You Learn in 18 Years of Parenting

I've done it. I've sent my first child to college.

That means I've successfully kept alive, fed, and clothed a whole other human for 18 years. This is huge for me, as I can't even handle houseplants.

And just like I've done a few posts musing on the things I've learned after 10 years and 15 years of parenting, this seems like a good milestone year to write another chapter.

If Phillip and I look tired in this picture, it's because we are.

1. Never judge anyone's parenting whose kids are older than yours. You have no idea.

2. People will say you'll have more free time once your kids reach [insert stage of life here]. They're lying.

3. Big kids are every bit as messy as little ones. Actually, they're worse, because you can't even begin nagging them to clean up until after their 3,000 extra-curricular activities.

4. Kids will forget almost all the things you did with them when they were younger, but they'll remember your family traditions with a Norman Rockwell-like nostalgia.

5. Wait as long as you possibly can before giving your kids smartphones.

6. If you don't specifically ask them to take care of the the toilet paper tube on the bathroom counter, they'll just adapt and it becomes a permanent fixture of the house.

This is our overflowing cardboard recycling bin. And it's overflowing because a child flattened a cardboard box, laid it on top of the empty bin, and piled everything else on top of it for a week.

7. It's really humbling when your kids get old enough to realize you're not perfect.

8. Occasionally asking your children to make sacrifices or go without something they want is nothing to feel guilty about. In fact, it's critical to their well-being.

9. Sharing your favorite shows and movies with your kids when they're old enough is magical. 

10. Even the best teenagers are super-frustrating sometimes.

11. The car is a great place to initiate serious talks with your older kids: you don't have to make eye contact, and they can't escape.

12. Eventually, kids will choose their own interests and preferences. They're usually not what you would've chosen for them, and this is surprisingly hard.

One of our children decided her passion was horseback riding; we later discovered she was allergic to horses.

13. When teenagers inconvenience you by throwing things together at the last minute, it isn't because they're inconsiderate. They genuinely don't realize that everyone else in the whole world (except other teenagers) plans ahead.

14. Frankly, it doesn't matter very much what your style of parenting is, as long as it communicates to your kids that you love them.

15. Making a perfectly reasonable request in your calmest and most pleasant demeanor can still be interpreted by your child as "yelling at them."

16a. The saying "little kids, little problems; big kids, big problems" is absolutely true. 

16b. When you're the parent dealing with your big kid's big problems, you desperately need support that you're unable to get because it would breech your teen's privacy. Sorry. 

17. Appreciate the years when your kid goes to bed early and you're off-duty at 8 PM every night.

18. Be home for your big kids as much as possible. Even when they don't depend on you for their minute-to-minute physical survival anymore, they thrive on the stability of your presence. 

19. Kids love few things more than they love leaving every light in the house on.

20. When giving your older child guidance, never end a sentence with a period. Just ask questions until they arrive at the conclusion you hoped they'd reach, and hopefully they'll take their own advice.

21. Teach your kids life skills. For one thing, they actually start being helpful when they're older, and for another, they'll be ready to leave home one day without being overwhelmed by adulting.

Eight years later, this is finally paying off.

22. You will, because of your older kids' large statures and self-assured attitudes, forget that they're still just kids. But don't worry, they'll do something to remind you soon enough.

23. People aren't exaggerating when they say teenage boys smell and will eat everything in sight. If anything, they're understating it.

24. Moodiness is normal, but if you honestly think your teen dislikes you or is chronically disrespectful to your face, your relationship needs help. (Here's a fantastic book about that.)

25. It's really irritating to be the driver for someone who has earbuds shoved in their ears.

26. Older kids refuse to sleep with a flat sheet. No one knows why.

Younger ones will choose to sleep on the floor in between the wall and the perfectly serviceable bed you bought them.

27. Potty training a toddler is a carefree frolic through the meadow compared to teaching a teenager to drive.

28. Everyone starts out thinking they'll be a chill parent, but sooner or later, they'll be threatening to burn down the house if they find one more empty box in the pantry like the rest of us.

29. It doesn't matter what's in the fridge, your kids will look in it and declare that there's "no food." And then they'll leave the door open.

30. Parenting is easier if you don't take yourself too seriously.

The thing that becomes clearest as you raise a child to young adulthood is that actually, you know nothing. Just do the best you can and never stop trying. With any luck, one day you'll have grandchildren to enjoy while your kids go gray trying to figure this stuff out for themselves.

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What We Learned from Our Family Dopamine Detox Experience

I've been hearing a lot about dopamine lately. And the more I heard, the more I became convinced it was time for a family dopamine fast.

In a nutshell, dopamine is the feel-good chemical released in your brain whenever you do something enjoyable. It also plays a role in motivation, making it harder to enjoy or even start low-dopamine activities if you're indulging too much in high-dopamine ones.

While you wouldn't want to eliminate all dopamine (when scientists block the dopamine in mice's brains, the mice starve because they lack the motivation to eat), I decided it was time for a little experiment of our own: what would happen if we cut out things that added a lot of dopamine but little overall value to our lives?

Sadly, this was not a staged photo.

For one week, my family of 8 — two adults plus six kids ages 5 to 17 — were going to try doing just that. For our purposes, we identified the following high-dopamine, low-value activities:

1. Using computers or phones for any non-work or -school activities
2. Playing video games
3. Listening to music
4. Eating sugar and processed food

After the week was up, I gave separate interviews to each member of the family, including myself, to see how it went.

Q: What did you like about the dopamine fast?

Me: Everything. The kids were less crabby. I wasn't constantly policing screen time or reeling the kids back in from watching someone else play Minecraft. When I couldn't pull out my phone during moments of downtime, I was more accessible to the kids. And I loved not having the teens wearing their headphones around the house closed off to the family or scrolling on their phones when I drove them somewhere like I'm the hired help.

Phillip: I was calmer and less stressed. I had more motivation to do things so I wasn't sitting around stressed about not doing things — I just did them. I found enjoyment in activities like reading and thinking. I interacted with the kids more.

17:  I used to listen to music or watch a video when I was bored; when I was forced to do something like reading a book, it took more energy in the short term but actually gave me energy and was more satisfying in the end. It forced me to slow down and think about what would actually make me feel better, so I felt less bad about how I was spending my time. I don't want to use my brain because I'm tired, but I feel better when I use my brain more. 

15: Everything felt more grounded and physical this week.  There were less days where I felt blah. I didn't do more things, but I felt less rushed when I did do things. I knew where all my time was going so that was nice.

13: Nobody was screaming and yelling about screens. We did more stuff together like board games, instead of me being off doing my own thing. I didn't really miss screens, even though my brain was like "I want to go back to screens!"

10: I liked how everybody wasn't grouchy because of screens. When I had screens I wanted to use my time as much as I could with no one bothering me so I would get grumpy and tired and it hurt my eyes, but I still wanted to play it. I also liked the no-screens part because my friend messages me too much, and I got to do more with family.

7: I don't know.

5: I didn't really get distracted [by watching other people playing games when I'm supposed to be doing something else.]

Q: What did you dislike?

Me: Nothing, really.

Phillip: I missed access to information. Sometimes I was curious about something but decided not to look it up. Like right now, I was wondering why trees don't freeze in the winter. Last week I wouldn't have looked it up, but this week I did and it's fascinating, actually.

17: I don't like doing homework with no music. There was also no easy distraction when I wanted to distract myself from negative thoughts I was having. I don't think cutting out sugar made any difference.

15: Sometimes it was inconvenient when I wanted to text something or check the [online] calendar and couldn't. I got bored a lot, like when I finished a test early at school and then just sat there for 50 minutes doing literally nothing. 

13: There were a few times when I was at activities where they had hot chocolate and it was annoying to turn it down.

10: I still want to have some sugar! And since I couldn't message my friend, if I had something to tell her I had to try to remember it until the next day and I didn't like going home and never talking to her again.

7: I kind of didn't have anything to do except read and play outside. I just didn't know what to do, it was kinda boring.

5: I can't have all the foods.

The kids may not have liked the "no sugar" rule, but no one can say they weren't committed. In the cabinet, I found our shaker of cinnamon sugar with a new label reading "POISON."

Q: What surprised you?

Me: I read a whole book this week, which would normally take me 6 months. I used to go on YouTube when I was tired, but I think it only made me more tired. I think it stresses my brain to keep switching between the real world and the virtual world. I was also surprised that I liked not using the car radio all week. Less constant sensory input like background music in the car made me feel more relaxed and slowed down.

Phillip: Nothing. It was basically what I expected.

17: I was expecting to miss certain online activities but I found other things to do with my time. I was also expecting to feel like I did a lot, but I think I ended up just doing things slower.

15: I expected to be more tired but I was actually less tired. I could just go home from work and do stuff, I didn't really need a break [to scroll my phone]. Also, I ended up getting offered a lot of sugar that week [namely a juice/chocolate muffin/donut breakfast, cupcakes, hot chocolate and candy, and two donuts with brownie batter filling] and before I probably would've eaten it all but felt bad about it. 

13: I expected to miss screens but I didn't, really. Which is weird because we've done screen-free weeks before and it was painful. [Mom's note: maybe because we focused on why instead of just me making a rule that seemed arbitrary to the kids.]

10: I thought it wouldn't be very good but it was okay. Kind of boring, though.

7: Nothing surprised me, I didn't even think about it.

5: I thought it would be worse than this but it's not.

Q: What do you want to do differently now that this is over?

Me: I want to confine all my Internet use to daytime hours and be totally present once the kids come home from school. I also want to drastically cut back screen time for all the kids. It has no benefit to them, especially the 5- and 7-year-old who just get crabby when it's time to stop playing. 

Phillip: The main thing I don't want to do is browsing so much. I want to go on the Internet with a specific question or purpose and then get off of it. So less idle browsing and refrain from using screens late in the evening.

17: I want to be more aware of why I'm looking for dopamine. I want to slow down and actually evaluate my options to see if I want to relax with a low-value, high-dopamine activity or do something else. I didn't always make that decision before, I just did it.

15: I kind of liked not have a phone at school because if you have your phone on you, you feel pressured to respond to calls and texts right away. I might not take it with me every day.

13: I used to think 30 minutes [my usual allowed screen time] wasn't much and I thought it was stupid that you guys cared so much, but there are better ways to spend my time so I'll only play maybe only every couple of days. And not too long. After you hit like an hour, you're not really even having fun anymore anyway, you're just doing it 'cause dopamine says so.

10: I want to do less screens, and pick an amount of time I can spend on them.

7: How am I supposed to know? I kinda just do stuff and then the day's over, that's what I do.

5: Go shopping because we need more food. We can get pistachios. [These weren't forbidden, by the way.]

Final Thoughts from Mom (Because Moms Always Get the Last Word)

None of us realized it before, but I think we were all a little addicted to the Internet. This week helped us all check ourselves and set the 'reset' button in that department. 

For us, the sugar part didn't make that much of a difference because we don't normally eat many processed food or sugary treats, but if that's your family's vice it might pan out differently for you.

The older kids were more introspective about our offline week, but I think the younger kids need more help finding meaningful activities to replace screen time. The next time we try this, I'll make sure to engage them in a good project or at least set them up with more playdates.

In the meantime, I'm definitely more likely to distract the younger kids when they ask for screen time (75% it ends in a tantrum, anyway.) Sometimes I say things to the older kids like "I thought you didn't want to play on a screen every day" and they'll more willingly limit their own screen time.

Living without the Internet as much as we could for even a week was nothing but good for the whole family — especially for the kids and teens, who genuinely don't know what it's like not to grow up with a bazillion different bluetooth devices in their faces 24 hours a day. Attempting a detox like this is like swimming upstream in our dopamine-saturated world, but it sure does feel good to try sometimes.

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In Search of a Less Wasteful Christmas

It's December 1^st, and if this were any other year I would've had at least one holiday prep-related mental breakdown by now. But it hasn't happened yet, and here's the beautiful reason why: my husband and I aren't getting the kids gifts this year.

Before you start penning your letters to CPS, please hear me out. It's all part of a bigger plan. In fact, it was the kids' idea.

For years now, I've had the sneaking suspicion that our Christmas season was out of control. I tried to simplify and streamline everything I could, using task management apps, jettisoning traditions that were more work than enjoyment, even paring down our holiday decor so it didn't feel like such a big job.

But I couldn't quite bring myself to re-examine our gift-giving. It was Christmas, after all: the one day a year (other than their birthdays) when the kids get presents. And Evans family tradition had it that every kid received four gifts from Mom and Dad on Christmas morning, plus another from Santa.

Maybe that doesn't sound like a lot, but with 6 kids that equals 30+ presents to shop for... not including stocking stuffers. 

I don't want to know how many hours I've spent poring over holiday gift lists and wracking my brain for any conceivable way to commodify my kids' interests: the 7-year-old likes basketball, what product goes with that? A new ball? A jersey? A basketball nightlight for his room? A life-sized cutout of LeBron James? 

Which, to be honest, always left me feeling vaguely uncomfortable. If my son was happily playing basketball with what we had already, wouldn't he rather have me just go outside and play with him instead of hiding inside furtively reading "52 Awesome Gifts for Kids Who Can't Get Enough of the Game"?

Not only that, I was also feeling burnt out. I was tired of the planning, the brainstorming sessions, and the shopping. I was tired of the ordering and the tracking. I had come to resent the color-coded spreadsheet of which items we'd chosen but not ordered, and which ones we'd ordered but hadn't yet arrived. 

And I don't even want to talk about the gift wrapping.

Christmas 2016. I know.

But hey, I figured, that's just the way Christmas is, and resolved that the only thing I could do was change my attitude and try to enjoy the ride.

The gift-giving question was forgotten for a few more years, until this past spring. Inspired by The Minimal Mom on YouTube, I did a massive declutter of the house.

From the attic to the basement, I was ruthless in my purging. I didn't throw out any of the kids' stuff without their knowledge, but what I did do was give them permission to get rid of absolutely anything — anything — they didn't use or love. Even (and maybe especially) if they felt like they "should" keep it for some other reason.

Perhaps not surprisingly, a lot of the stuff we'd given them for Christmas just a few months earlier sailed right out the door that spring, and it was a real eye-opener to me and my husband. All those hours we'd spent hunting down the perfect gifts... maybe it wasn't as worth it as we used to think. 

I don't care for excess and Phillip doesn't like waste, and looking at the pile of items the kids happily discarded once they had permission was hard evidence that we'd inadvertently been creating a lot of both.

So what to do with this wake-up call?

We considered having the kids start drawing up wish lists, but only briefly. I didn't like the idea of reducing gift-giving to an "I put in my order and you fill it" transaction. (Where's the magic in that?) And to be honest, I wasn't sure that shoving a toy catalog in front of my 5-year-old would be any less wasteful than what we'd already been doing. 

We posed the question to the kids at a family meeting, and they came up with a creative solution: experience gifts instead of tangible ones. In the next few weeks, they'll be giving us two or three ideas of something they'd like to do, see, or visit in the week between Christmas and New Years, and Phillip and I will either choose something from the list or surprise them.

But here's the kicker: that will be their only gift from us. Phillip and I are out of the presents-that-go-in-a-box game.

The 5- and 7-year-olds were a little concerned, but were fine once we assured them they'd still get stuff from their grandparents, and Santa will still fill their stockings and bring them one physical present. Our Christmas isn't going to be ascetic, just reasonable.

Ultimately, I realized that no matter how much time and effort we put into selecting the perfect things to put under the tree, we can never guarantee they won't end up in a pile of clutter no one uses. 

Giving experiences, however, is a different story. Even if your experience gift ends up being a dud (you got a flat tire on the way there, the tour guide was crabby, and the whole thing was not at all what you expected,) you still spent time together creating memories. It's always a net positive.

This Christmas will be much different, but in a good way. I know I won't miss waking up exhausted from present-wrapping to hunt down batteries and run tech support for new gadgets, and I don't think the kids will mind having fewer presents under the tree. Instead, we'll have a calendar full of fun things to do together, and none of us can hardly wait.

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The Hardest Parts of Having a Big Family

When I write about big families like mine, I tend to talk about the funny and the heartwarming side. Mostly because I truly do feel like I'm living my best life over here raising 6 quirky and amazing kids. 

Family picture courtesy of my youngest child.

But for every action there's an equal and opposite reaction (I learned that from my high schooler's physics class,) so it makes sense that raising a large family also comes with its own set of heartaches and headaches.

So in the vein of honesty for honesty's sake, here are the most difficult things about being hopelessly outnumbered by miniature versions of yourself.

So. Much. Noise.

When we send the kids outside to play, I think the guards at the Canadian border can tell. Never have you heard such auditory chaos, including (but not limited to) happy whooping, excited shouting, heated arguments, and injured crying.

Things don't get much better inside the house. Someone is pounding on the piano. Teenagers are thundering up and down the stairs and talking over each other to be heard. I may be exaggerating a little, but it's objectively loud. I know because one of our daughters has sensory issues and she frequently comes to the dinner table wearing noise-cancelling headphones.

There's No Pleasing Everyone

Speaking of dinner, no matter what you're eating there's always someone who doesn't like it. I know this happens in every family sometimes, but in a big family it's a 100% certainty at every single meal. 

Unanimous decisions exist, but more often than not there's at least one person who doesn't want to go to the beach or doesn't like the choice for movie night. You try to accommodate everyone's preferences as much as possible, but at the end of the day kids in big families have to learn to compromise.

It Takes Us Forever to Assemble

You know that scene from Home Alone where everyone is frantically running around, tripping over each other and yelling, trying to get out the door? Well, that's us but not just when we're leaving on vacation. It's literally anytime we have to go anywhere.

It also takes us forever to assemble for mealtimes or family prayer. No one listens the first time we call, because they don't want to be the only one sitting at the table for 15 minutes, and on the off-chance a child does do exactly what we asked they get bored waiting for everyone else and wander away. We often resort to a final countdown and then just start whether we're missing people or not.

It's Impossible Not to Be Overscheduled

"Overscheduled" becomes a lifestyle when you have multiple children, and I honestly can't figure out how to avoid it. Even if each child is only involved in one or two activities it means that collectively, your family is swamped. 

You're on the road all the time (note to self: set up more carpools!) and dinner for at least one kid every night is sandwiches in the car, which (surprise!) not everyone likes. It takes a month to schedule family movie night, because that's how often you have a 2-hour chunk of time when everyone is home before the youngest kids have to go to bed.

Your Family Is Overwhelming to Others

No one invites eight people over for dinner, unless you're friends with other families of eight and you can eat outside. My kids report that their friends, who have families half the size and houses twice as big, get overwhelmed with the level of activity over here and sometimes prefer to meet up at their houses instead. 

This might be rooted in my own personal insecurities, but I also worry about scaring people off with the size of my brood before they get to know us. The first time I meet you, I might be intentionally vague about the number of kids I have until you see that the one or two I've got with me are good kids you wouldn't mind hanging out with yours.

Your Choice of Activities is Limited

Hotel rooms have occupancy limits. Family memberships only cover 4 to 6 people. It takes 20 minutes for us all to order food at McDonald's, not that we eat there often because it also costs $100. Some things other families don't think twice about are just too hard or too expensive to be worth it for us.

If you have a big family, your children probably also span a wide range of ages, which narrows your choices even more. What activities can you do that are fun for your teenager but still appropriate for your toddler? We do a lot of beaches and hiking, both of which also happen to be free so that works out nicely.

Mental and Physical Exhaustion

You're up late with teenagers, up early with preschoolers, and maybe even up at night with a baby. Your body is busy meeting the needs of little kids and your mind is preoccupied with the problems of the big kids. 

Part of it is probably that I'm just getting older myself, but always being on-duty and juggling so many different parenting toolboxes at once means that I'm definitely more tired now than I've ever been. 

These are the biggest challenges I've faced while raising a big family, but it's worth saying again that for each one there's a silver lining. There's more work, but more people to help out. There's more sacrifice, but also more joy.

The bottom line is that watching your child's miraculous personality unfold is life's greatest privilege, and the fact that I get to do this — not just one time, but six — makes me feel ridiculously lucky, regardless of the difficulties.

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When You're Done

When you're done having babies, you just know.

At least that's what they say.

What I know is that there's nothing more perfect in this world than a nursing baby who lets go and looks up at you to smile.

What I don't know is how to reconcile that with the feeling that I am full. Our house, our car, and our dining room table are at max capacity. Some days, I feel stretched to my limit trying to meet the needs of my children, especially when I'm up all night with the baby and the day starts with a toddler meltdown over a piece of toast.

Sometimes I look at my family and feel like it's complete, but I also know without a doubt that if another baby joined our family I'd look back and laugh, wondering how I ever could have been so wrong.

One summer, my older kids took swim lessons at a local pool that allowed siblings to swim at no cost during lesson time. In our family, you don't turn down free pool time, but believe me: supervising a baby, toddler, and preschooler in the water by yourself every day for two weeks is not for the faint of heart.

As I was trying to distort the space-time continuum to be in three places at once, an older mother at the side of the pool caught my eye.

She looked composed in a way I couldn't even imagine, with an actual hairstyle and a bathing suit she didn't choose for its ease of nursing. She was reading in a deck chair, looking up occasionally to wave at her two junior high-age kids jumping off the diving board.

When it was time to leave, her kids would dry themselves off and carry their own stuff back to the car. They'd have a coherent conversation on the way home, and she might even have the energy to say more than a few words to her husband before collapsing into bed at night.

I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't love a day like that. But a whole life?

Every day without chubby baby thighs and milk-drunk smiles and the smell of a newborn's head?

They say when you're finished, you'll just know. 

Is that true?

Right now, all I know is I'm not ready to feel the longing of the empty-handed lady in Target who tells frazzled young moms to enjoy every minute.

My husband — the pragmatist in our relationship — points out that no matter what we do, someday I'll be that lady anyway. He's right, as much as I hate to admit it.

The inescapable fact is that children grow up. Someday we'll no longer need to keep an emergency pair of tiny pants and underwear inside the glovebox of the van.

Someday we won't need a van at all.

We're still saving the baby's clothes when he outgrows them. We've always done that, filling the attic with children's clothing of every size just waiting to be hand-me-downs for a future brother or sister.

But I had no idea how hard it would be packing up a box of 3-6 month onesies and wondering if I'll ever hand them down to anyone again.

No idea how hard it would be folding all the little knit pants with footies and then shutting the box for what might be the last time.

The baby years are messy, chaotic, and exhausting, and just when you think you can't feel any more overwhelmed a stranger in Target tells you to love every minute.

I don't know what the future holds, but as I stand over this box with a roll of tape in my hand and a lump in my throat, the only thing I know for sure is that I did love every minute, after all.

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30 Lessons from 15 Years of Parenting

To date, I have six kids ranging in age from 3 to 15, and believe me when I say I know a lot more than when I started.

Besides being married and feeding myself, there aren't many other activities I've been actively engaged in for 15 years, so I was bound to learn a few things.

After fifteen years, here's what I know about raising humans, from fun size to (almost) full size.

1. If you think you know what you're doing as a parent, you don't have enough kids. Keep going and you'll get one who proves you wrong.

2. It's not just toddlers who are exasperating. At every age, your kids can regularly make you want to stick your head in the oven.

3. Do things the way they work for your family, even if they're not the way everyone else does them. (Seriously, have the kids sleep in tomorrow's clean clothes or give them the master bedroom if that's what makes sense for your family. There really are no rules.)

4. Kids will try to hang from anything. A drywall patch kit makes a lovely and practical baby shower gift for clueless new parents.

5. You'll forget how hard it was after your kids aren't little anymore. You think you won't, but you do.

6. After you have children, 'tired' becomes your personality. By the time they finally learn to sleep through the night, you will have forgotten how.

7. For the love of all that's holy, make your kids work a lot at home. You are not the maid.

Okay, but maybe don't start this young.

8. Parenting is mostly like being a triage nurse.

9. If you have to get something done but the kids are in your hair, give them 5 minutes of your undivided attention first. They'll be satisfied for an hour and you'll accomplish much more in the end, I promise.

10. One of the best feelings in the world is being needed. The other best feeling, if you're a parent, is occasionally not being needed.

11. When you have teenagers, the eye-rolling goes both ways.

12. Sex talks and discussions about body parts/functions aren't awkward if you start talking when your kids are really young.

13. Nothing smells as good as a newborn baby's head.

14. You don't know what's cool now and even if you did, you wouldn't understand it. If your 13-year-old tells you everyone at school is drawing on clown eyebrows and wearing their underwear outside of their pants, just say 'okay' and try not to think about it too much.

You won't get how they talk, either.

15. Having charts and systems is so worth the effort. It's hard when they're young but it pays off a hundredfold.

16. You don't have to be a good mom in the same way that so-and-so is a good mom. We all have different strengths as parents and that's okay.

17. If your kids' room is always messy, they probably just have too much stuff. Same goes for your house.

18. Teenagers have a way of making you realize it really isn't so bad having someone so in love with you they'll fight to sit on your lap while you use the toilet. (Possibly see #5.)

There is no way not to miss this when they're older.

19. Your younger kids will be raised in the family minivan.

20. Your kids may be a little weird, but they take it to a whole new level when you introduce them to people you'd like to impress.

21. If there's a dumb YouTube video out there, your kids will find it.

22. Teenagers come alive and suddenly get chatty just when you're ready to collapse into bed at night.

23. If you don't really expect your kids to behave in public, listen to you, or get along with each other, they probably won't.

24. Time is weird in parenting. It's impossible to look at your baby and think "this creature will one day be picking up milk at the store for me on her way home from work," but it's almost equally impossible to watch your high school student writing a research paper and really feel like he's the same person whose favorite activity was finding things in the carpet and sucking on your keys. 

25. Take pictures. And while you're at it, write down the cute stuff your kids say.

Just a 5-year-old showing his younger brother how to escape from prison.

26. They changed math since you were in school. No, really. They changed it. You literally cannot help your second grader with his homework now.

27. Making silly sound effects while you're folding laundry is the main ingredient for a toddler's Best Day Ever. As they get older, kids are significantly harder to impress.

28. The younger the child, the better s/he is at locking you out of your phone.

29. Do everything you can to foster good sibling relationships among your kids. They will outlive you, and hopefully so will their friendships with each other.

30. It's best not knowing what's under the seats in the last row of the minivan.

My oldest child hasn't even turned 16 yet, and I've heard that's when things get real. So I fully expect to keep learning, and you should probably expect a post like this one in another five years.

If you liked this post, make sure to check out 29 Things I've Learned in Ten Years of Parenting!

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For Those About to Shop, We Salute You

These people are too happy and the Internet is a lie.

Something that truly amazes me about parenting is our capacity to forget.

As soon as you leave a particularly challenging stage, mom-nesia wipes your memory clean like it never even happened.

This is helpful when you're considering giving birth a second time, but not, for instance, a few Saturdays ago.

Now that 3 of my 6 kids are old enough to babysit, I rarely take a gaggle of tiny humans grocery shopping anymore.

But for some reason I can't quite remember (again with the mom-nesia,) I loaded up the 3 youngest kids in the minivan one fine Saturday to do just that.

By the time we were finished, I was ready to drive the cart off a cliff.

It all starts the moment the automatic double doors swoosh open. First, no one wants to sit in the shopping cart; then everyone does. After intense negotiations, I situate the 3-year-old in the seat and the 5-year-old in the basket of the cart, and we roll to the dairy aisle with my 8-year-old skipping alongside.

The 3-year-old yanks on the seat belt in the cart, becoming visibly upset. "This seat belt is too small!"

"You don't need it," I explain, beginning to wonder if it's too late to abandon the cart and just go home to live on half a stale English muffin and five ounces of milk. "That's for babies. You're a big boy and besides, you're wearing a big coat."

"I want my coat off!"

WHY DID I SAY THAT?

The 8-year-old, meanwhile, flits around me like a hummingbird. "Where's your list? I'll read the list!"

She rummages through my pockets and purse while I remove the 3-year-olds' coat and buckle the seat belt for him, which he immediately begins trying to unbuckle.

I find the shopping list and hand it to her, reminding the 5-year-old to sit down when the cart is moving or he'll fall out. He remains unconvinced.

"I can't read your handwriting!" the 8-year-old complains, turning my list this way and that like Gaston looking at Belle's book in Beauty and the Beast. "You have really bad writing, Mommy."

"I can't un-BUUUUUCKLE it!" the 3-year-old yowls like a wounded animal.

I look around in despair, realizing that we will literally never leave this grocery store, or even this aisle, without divine intervention.

The 8-year-old, having abandoned the idea of reading my chicken scratch grocery list, is sitting on the rack at the bottom of the cart, directly under the 3-year-old, who is kicking her in the head. "Hey!" she yells. "Stop kicking me!"

"There's nowhere else for his feet to go," I say, exasperated.

We stop for a pep talk in the bacon aisle. "Look, guys: we are never going to leave here if you don't help Mommy. No buckling seat belts, no kicking anyone in the head. Do you want to stay here for the rest of your lives?"

They don't, and so we move on.

For about 20 seconds.

"He's kicking me!" the 8-year-old protests, as if she wasn't part of the conference next to the processed meats thirty seconds ago.

"Hey! I want to sit down there!" the 5-year-old pipes up from the basket of the cart.

"No! No one is sitting down there. Everyone is staying right where they are."

But it's too late. Now that the idea of leaving their assigned seats has occurred to both the 3-year-old and the 5-year-old, resistance is futile.

The 5-year-old goes to join his sister who is spinning in the middle of the aisle, while the 3-year-old heads right for the closest package festooned with Disney characters and asks "Can I have this?"

I look at the Frozen II string cheese he's clutching to his heart and wonder  How can string cheese be character-themed? That doesn't even make sense.

"If you can tell me what that is," I bluff, looking him straight in the eye, "then yes, I will get it for you."

Of course, he has no idea.

Things calm down for a little while. My kids are generally well-behaved, but I quickly realize that even when they're being good, three kids take up a lot of space.

No matter where they go they're in someone's way, so while I'm trying to comparison shop for pickles (Sandwich Cut! Chips! Whole Baby! Sweet Gherkin!) I'm also reaching behind me grabbing kids who I hope are mine and pulling them out of the path of speeding shopping carts.

No one — and I repeat: no one — is more oblivious than a kid in a grocery store.

Absolutely zero awareness that people are trying to get around them. No concept that darting in front of an old lady could end in a coronary episode.

And as luck would have it, today happens to be the Saturday before the Superbowl so the store is packed. When I turn around I see an actual line of shoppers rage-waiting behind my 5-year-old for their chips and dip while he stands smack in the middle of the aisle going like this:

Another thing I notice: if I take the 3-year-old shopping while his siblings are in school, he asks for frosted animal crackers, I say no, and that's that. But now he has cohorts to pick up the whine train when he leaves off, and frankly it's too early in the morning for that.

Now they're fighting over who gets to "help" drive the cart (spoiler alert: they're all terrible drivers.) They're clotheslining pyramid-like displays of Roma tomatoes. They're chucking apples in the produce bag like baseballs. I think I see one of them lick a green pepper.

The produce department is kind of a blur.

Finally, we arrive at the checkout with a mountain of food spilling out of the cart and three children hanging off the sides like a merry band of pirates.

While I'm settling an argument about who gets to put the cheese on the conveyor belt, the 8-year-old waves around a carton of eggs like she's going for the gold in Olympic ribbon dancing.

I make a token attempt to tell the kids to stop manhandling all the candy bars, but my 5-year-old could start playing with live explosives right now and I'd probably let it slide. I can see the exit from here.

So close, and yet so far. 

As we cross the parking lot, I'm in the middle of warning the 3-year-old not to stand on the front of the cart or he could get run over when (drumroll, please) I drive over his foot.

Bump bump! like running over a badger on the side of the highway. There are literal wheel tracks on his shoe.

He's fine, although it takes a while for him to calm down and we're blocking traffic. I scoop him up in my arms and push the cart to the van with my pinky finger as the 8-year-old announces "Make way! World's Best Mom coming through!"

At least I think that's what she's saying. I can't hear because the 3-year-old is crying in my ear.

Somehow we get everyone in their car seats. Somehow we make it home. Another week's shopping completed.

And that, dear children, is why five or ten years from now, when you're strong enough to carry a gallon of milk into the house, you'll help unload the groceries. When you whine, "Do I haaaaaave to?" the answer will always be yes. 

Yes, you do. You owe me.

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