Sentimental goop

Let me start out by saying that I know I'm crazy.

My kids are nuts. By 9am, we've already had one hit in the face with a baseball, and another bonked on the head with a bat. Enough arguing ensued to drive the dogs insane, jumping and barking like... uh... insane dogs. We've had syrup on the floor, bites taken out of crayons, and there's a plain (thank goodness) waffle on the couch. The baby has scattered the newspaper all over the living room, and I've tripped over 3 monster trucks.

There are definitely aspects of this whole 4-kids thing that annoy and exhaust me. The biggest one being a lack of local, trustworthy babysitters! But I recently realized something. I love the chaos!

I don't know how this escaped my attention for so long. I guess I was too busy or too tired to think about it.

There is a sick and twisted part of me that actually likes running the washer and dryer for what feels like 24/7. When I can see the bottom of the kitchen sink, I have a feeling of satisfaction, but there's also a bit of "now what?" Taking all 4 kids (or even 1 or 2, at times) to the grocery store can be a huge project but, in a strange way, it's also kind of fun. And there are times when bedtime is full of whining, some escaping, and often bickering across the hallway, but once in a while I actually have the patience to be amused by it.

So now, with the baby getting bigger, I have that itch.

It's really not a dangerous sort of itch, since the husband is 100% satisfied with our family size and busy planning our future lifestyle of island hopping and business shmoozing. Which all sounds peachy to me.
And I have no desire to add any more maniacs right now. I'm very content to be planning the upcoming school year and munching on toddler toes without any other changes. But I do wonder how that itch is going to feel in another 4 years or so.

In 2012, J will be 14, H will be 10, M will be 9, and C will be 5. I'll be 35.

All of a sudden, 35 sounds so young to me! I wonder if I'll be happy to be picturing my 40's as "free", or if I'll turn 45 and wish we had had (birthed, adopted, stole, whatever) more maniacs around.

Honestly, I think I will be happy and grateful for wherever we are at that point. I'm not really a person who spends a lot of time mourning "what could have been." I live life in the moment and plan multiple paths for the future, but I don't hang around in the past other than to enjoy the good memories.

I'm just having a very hard time nibbling on chunky monkey toes without wondering how much longer I'll be able to do that.