Whats one more kid to mix into the chaos?


With three children of our own, there isn’t much time to do anything else but parent. My days are packed with juice boxes, and Gold fish and refereeing. At times I am sure I am need to up my dosage of Paxil , or shave my head because there is never time to wash the mop on my head.

I did what the only logical thing to do in my situation was, take on another tiny human being that I needed to care for.


Most people probably think I am insane to want to watch another child. I mean, I have like 23 kids anyway. My thought process was like, ” Whats one more kid to mix into the chaos? I have an extra seat in my mini van anyway. That seat is vacant and bored, screaming to have someone spit up on it. Plus, I mean sometimes I get bored. “

I have this sort of herd immunity mentality. No, I am not talking vaccinations because people know where I live. I’m talking about if they all stay together, like in a herd, I can get things done more effectively. Kind of like one huge kid. They eat together, take baths together. They get their vitamins in a literal row like I’m handing out food stamps. Once I brushed their teeth all at the same time. Being a gymnast really helps in situations like these. My feet come in handy.

So, the sweet little babe I am keeping is easy to keep in my herd. Because she can’t walk or talk yet. She just makes adorable noises, and loves me for my unshowered self. My children are more brutally honest, like today when I had a chance to shower off:

” Mom, your booty is like getting SO bigger. Not like fat, because you aren’t fat but I think you should stop eating so much food because it’s just all in your butt.”

– Rhema age four. NOT in my will.

and then this:

I’m rocking said new baby in the house and my tank top apparently was revealing my new friend called fat, resting on my stomach. My two year old grabs it like she is shaking it’s hand.

” Oh hello! Nice to meet you, are you staying for dinner because you shouldn’t!” 


At first I was nervous about caring for someone else’s kid. I mean I’ve been a Nanny before, but it’s like I needed a refresher course.I thought about taking a child care class maybe online or something? But then our oldest kid busted his head open on OUR own wall. It was then I knew I’m completely unfit to be anyone’s Nanny. But who is really all that qualified? Psh.

I’ve been watching her for a few weeks now, and I am questioning whether she came from my own uterus. I love her like she’s mine, I pick her boogers like she’s mine. I’m not even lying when I say that my IMAGINARY MILK supply has let down while holding her. When she cries in the van. I want to whip out my tube sock boob and nourish the child.

When she isn’t with me I freak out and look for her. I literally do a head count in the car, and when she isn’t there I contemplate sending out an AMBER ALERT. With this picture, which is my favorite. She was smiling at my husband, which I don’t blame her.

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See those cheeks? So far I’ve bought her 7 ponies just because that’s the standard gift for someone that’s this cute. Her mother has informed me there is no room in their back yard for the ponies. Working on getting a loan to build her a barn, but that’s after I pay off her college funding and ensure that she will wear my wedding dress on her big day. It’s not a lot to ask, but I have rocked her to sleep for naps.

It’s going well her and me. When she starts to talk she may express her feelings in a way that could be hurtful to me, as I am sure we are best friends. What if she gets a new best friend when she can walk? What if she likes my kids more than me? Sigh. This is the risk I knew I would take as soon as I saw her.

The fact is that Jesus has made this Ginormous part of my Mothers heart open to this angel. She didn’t even come out of my vagina, but I swear it feels like she did.

She blends in in this chaos of a herd I have. I’m confident that her first word may be something along the lines of:

Poop. Pee. Wiener.

Something like that. And for that I am taking full responsibility, I have GOT to watch my mouth around her young ears.

In all this, I know that God ordained her to be in my life for a reason. She is helping me heal from my miscarriage. Not to mention how intoxicating her smell is. That baby scent could be sold like meth on the streets to women who need a fix.

I’LL PAY YOU TOP DOLLAR, JUST GIVE ME ONE WHIFF. TAMMY OVER THERE IS LYING, SHE HAS A NEWBORN AT HOME. THE TRAMP. I HAVEN’T HELD A NEWBORN IN YEARS. MY UTERUS IS GROWING COBWEBS, PLEASE HELP ME JUST THIS ONCE.

But when a woman has smelled that baby head there is no turning back. I’m thinking of starting a rehab center and having women smell dirty diapers, as a reverse psychology Technic.

Let’s face it ladies, once you go ice pack, you never go back.

Ones that get that little joke are my new best friends.

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