Many people like to ask lots of questions and provide lots of opinions about our family.

Mainly when I am out with all of them in any public or outdoor place (I have literally gotten stopped in the street while taking a walk with my girls)

Read that – when –> I <– am out with them.

I can’t remember a time when Brent was with me that people provide their unnecessary inquiry.

I’ll have to think on that some and ask Brent what I’ve missed.

Anyway, moving on.

Here’s what it looks like for us to go do really anything.

We enter some public place (store, restaurant, etc).

Are all of those yours?

No, no there not. I just like to randomly pick up children and claim them as my own.

Four girls, huh?

Congratulations, your ability to identify male and female and count is on point.

Turn around and let’s get you a pat on the back.

Girls are the worst.

Oh, yeah, I’ve gotten this comment many times said IN FRONT OF MY GIRLS.

I just look at them and think, ‘what does this have to do with you?’

And why is your opinion of their worst-ness of any matter to me.

But, also, go away.

I love having girls.

Is it stressful? Duh.

Is it emotional? Sure.

Are they awesome? Absolutely.

Man, you’re all gonna be synced up at the same time.

Well, thank you for sharing your awareness of the female reproductive system.

I obviously know nothing about it.

You’re gonna have to buy a lot of feminine products.

Thank you, Sherlock Holmes, I just thought menstruation magically takes care of itself.

I’ll be sure to read up on it.

Boys are so much easier.

Well, obviously not you (most of my commenters are men).

I have four girls.

This is what I know, and even if I did have a boy in there somewhere, whoopty doo – they’re made different.

Surprise, surprise.

Your poor husband.

Why? Because he’s the only male in house full of girls (yes, even our pets are female).

Let me tell you something about my husband, he’s an amazing girl dad.

He is not phased one bit, nor does he feel cheated because there isn’t a boy in the house.

So, instead of thinking he’s somehow missing out, or singled out, think about the richness he gets to experience, and how he gets to teach them how men should treat women.

He’s an excellent example of that.

4, that’s a lot of kids.

*slow clap* Congratulations, you can count!

Also, when did 4 kids become ‘a lot of kids’.

When did it become weird for families to have more than one or two children?

It’s an un-winnable situation no matter how many kids you have though, because I have friends with more or less and they get comments and questions too.

Maybe next time you see a family with any amount of children of any male or female mixing, compliment them about their children.

Share something you saw that would be uplifting to them.

Otherwise, stick the rule: if you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

Okay, off the soapbox.

This is my go-to phrase when the girls are constantly bickering – both verbally and physically.

Yes, physical – hitting, kicking, and punching are things that happen on the regular here.

Whichever liar pants said girls are more emotional and less physical has obviously not met my crew. Sheesh.

Anyway, moving on.

When the girls are in this state, I usually send them to their room to cool down, and quite frankly give me some space to decide on a consequence.

They OBVIOUSLY need some time a part, especially considering we homeschool – we are around one another ALL THE TIME.

But, a couple of months ago, I had a revelation.

I’ve been misinterpreting their behavior and claims.

They don’t actually need space from one another (though there are clear times where this is the case), what they actually need is time TOGETHER.

Yes, I just said more time with one another is the answer.

I have a feeling some of you may think I’m insane.

Hear me out.

My girls fight about dolls, or who used their make-up, or who got into their stash of whatever, constantly at each other because they’re simultaneously focused on their siblings’ frustrating nuances and what they want.

The remedy (for us 99% of the time)?

More togetherness, but with a common goal: enjoyment.

Instead of sitting in front of the TV and arguing over which television show or movie fits the ages spanning 11-2, we (really me) pull out a game and invite (really force to begin) all of them to the table for game time.

We pull out Unocorns or Uno Flip, Qwirkle or Fish Sticks, or our latest favorite: Pickles to Penguins and we work toward the common goal of having fun with one another.

Most of the time, this is the fix.

This response helps the girls see their sibling is actually fun to be around and maybe they aren’t the horrible individual they’ve envisioned or experienced just minutes before.

It’s like a reset.

So, here’s my goal for you.

The next time your kids are fighting, especially when it seems like there’s no end to it, instead of sending them to their room, or requiring time apart, grab a game, -force- them to sit at the table, and work towards the common goal of enjoying time with one another.

When you play, enjoy every moment of it.

Soak in the hilarity, the raised spirits, and the smiles.

You won’t regret it.

After we shared the news of our miscarriage with our girls, Sprite and Banshee both asked me a question.

Banshee’s came as we were loading the van to head out of town on our already planned trip.

She sweetly and curiously asked me why the baby in my belly died.

Keep in mind, this wasn’t 15 minutes after sharing the news.

I was still pretty raw.

But, she’s 5, her question was innocent.

I took a breath in so I could answer her without sobbing.

“Sweetie, I don’t know. Usually when babies die early in the belly, it means something didn’t come together just right, so the baby didn’t grow like they should.”

“Oh…ok.”

Just a curious question, from an innocent child.

Later, as we were on the road, Sprite had a question.

“Mom, where is the baby?”

I think I know what she’s trying to ask.

“Help me understand a little more.”

“Well, to get to heaven, you have to be a christian, but she isn’t, so where is she?”

“Are you asking that since you know you have to choose Jesus to be in heaven when you die, but she didn’t have a chance to choose, where could she be?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a good question. Here’s what I think. You can only choose God when you understand sin, repentance, and the gift of Jesus. But, she didn’t have an opportunity to do that. Now, though I hope this never happens, if something were to happen to Torpedo right now and she were to die, where do you think she would go?”

“I think she would be with Jesus.” She said confidently.

“I do too. Torpedo can’t communicate all the things she needs; she really just throws tantrums when she doesn’t get her way, and doesn’t fully understand right and wrong. Do you think she could make the choice to choose Jesus at her age?”

“No.”

“Right. She can’t. But, I think our God is gracious and merciful, and would extend His gift of life forever with Him to her. What do you think?”

“I think the same thing.”

Fast forward to about 2 weeks later, I was talking with a friend at our church. She was checking in on me and I shared this interaction with Sprite with her.

In response she shared a scripture reference with me that comforted her when she experienced the same.

Here’s the passage:

Then David got up from the ground. After he had washed, put on lotions and changed his clothes, he went into the house of the Lord and worshiped. Then he went to his own house, and at his request they served him food, and he ate. His attendants asked him, “Why are you acting this way? While the child was alive, you fasted and wept, but now that the child is dead, you get up and eat!” He answered, “While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept. I thought, ‘Who knows? The Lord may be gracious to me and let the child live.’ But now that he is dead, why should I go on fasting? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.”

2 Samuel 12:20-23 emphasis mine.

This passage is the account after David was informed of his son’s death following his sin of adultery and murder, and his son’s sickness and death as a consequence of it.

The italicized part is David verbalizing his son is dead and he will not return to him here on earth, but that upon his death, he will go to him.

After I read this, I sat down with my oldest, Sprite, read this to her and talked specifically about that last part I italicized.

It fully answers Sprite’s question.

Just like David’s son is with God, so are our babies.

They will not return to us, but we will go to them.

It’s a beautiful picture of God’s grace and mercy and this passage gave us the assurance and peace that they are with their creator, and someday we will go to them.

I do wish this never happened, but it has shown me some beautiful things.

God has been kind and blessed my relationship with my girls.

They feel comfortable asking me hard, emotion-evoking questions, and trusting I will provide them an honest answer.

This grief provided an opportunity for me to sit down with my oldest and show her where to find answers to difficult circumstances.

Beauty.

It’s there.

Even when we grieve.

When we found out we miscarried our 6th child (6th to us, 5th in their understanding), we discussed how we would share this news with our children.

We didn’t want to keep this from them.

They would be watching us grieve, notice our rhythms change for a few days, and wonder.

So instead of pretending everything was the same, or answering questions, we chose to share news that would unfortunately produce grief for them.

When we arrived home from the dr, we gathered the girls into the living room and shared what happened.

With the exception of Sprite, who knew about the pregnancy, the others had no idea and had to digest the idea of a baby, and the death of a baby all in one sitting.

It was horrible.

Brent was the speaker as I sat in our recliner crying and watching their reactions as he spoke to them.

After he finished, he said, “you can go give mommy a hug now.”

Tempest and Banshee came straight over, hugged me tight, and sobbed.

Torpedo elbowed her way in there too.

They sobbed at the grief they saw me display; they sobbed at the no-longer possibility of our family growing; they sobbed at what they didn’t fully understand.

As the youngest three were ready to let go, Sprite was sitting on the couch curling up, feeling crushed by her thoughts and feelings.

I called her over and had her sit in my lap, even though she commented she was too big, I responded, “you’ll never be too big.”

She leaned in and cried grief-stricken tears into my shirt as I hugged her tight and cried with her.

This.

This moment with Sprite, and the moment before with my others, is hands down one of the hardest things I have done as a parent.

Helping them hold grief, while also holding my own, is so difficult.

But also so important.

It’s important to share not just happy moments with your children, but the crappy ones too.

I encourage you as moments and seasons come, you also share with your children.

Remind them you are a safe place, hold them close, grieve with them, and through that you extend the compassionate heart and love of Jesus to them as well.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted
    and saves those who are crushed in spirit.

Psalm 34:18

Our family attended church this past Sunday.

And for those of you who know us probably think, “well, duh, you do that every week.”

But, this past Sunday was different.

Just the week before, our hearts were ripped apart when we found we had a missed miscarriage.

I hoped we’d never experience this again; yet, here we were.

So we took the weekend, went out of town on an already planned trip, came back and stepped into the sad and difficult.

The process and experience of miscarriage left us feeling sad, vulnerable, and lifeless.

As we endured the slow days of miscarrying, the week came to a close and Sunday drew closer.

I desired to attend church on Sunday, not just for myself, but for my family in general.

But I knew attending church would be difficult, yet a necessary step to healing and normalcy.

We needed to worship with our church family.

We needed to feel God’s undeniable presence through His people.

We needed to be reminded that God is for us.

We needed to sing about His goodness in the midst of our heavy grief.

So we did.

We attended church.

We sang about God’s goodness as we wept about the loss of our baby.

We absorbed the message that God is for us, even if we didn’t feel it at the moment.

And God showed up and met me there.

He drew me closer to Him, held my sadness, and comforted my grief.

And those select few who knew about our situation were a tangible reminder of God’s love with their sweet embraces and words of comfort.

It was the difficult and the beautiful all wrapped in one moment.

I encourage you in those hard and grief-filled seasons: go to church.

Go experience His presence with His people, bring your questions and doubts, and be reminded.

He will meet you there.

For where two or three are gathered together in my name, I am there among them.
Matthew 18:20

Have you ever felt lonely?

This was a question posed at the end of Banshee’s nightly Bible story a couple of weeks ago.

We just finished reading about Hannah, her desire to have a baby, and feeling like God didn’t hear her when she cried out. (1 Samuel 1)

But, God did hear her and blessed her with a son, Samuel.

Sometimes, especially in a larger family, it’s easy to feel those emotions, unheard and lonely.

So, when I read the question ‘do you ever feel lonely?’ out loud, she responded in a sweet voice, “sometimes I feel lonely.”

I asked, “when do you feel lonely?”

“When I feel really angry or sad.” she replied in a defeated tone. (we struggle with the expression of these emotions).

She then began to squeeze her teddy bear and close down.

I hugged her close.

“Sweetie, why do you feel lonely when you’re angry and sad?”

“I don’t know.”

I sat for a couple of minutes with my mind racing on how to help her put words to it.

“Do you feel lonely when you’re angry or sad because they feel so big and no one else can be there with you?”

In a small voice, “yeah…”

Then she began crying.

I hugged her closer.

“Sweetie, I know those emotions can feel so big, but God is bigger than those feelings, and He is always with you.”

She’s still whimpering next to me.

She continued.

“When I’m angry and sad it feels like when you’re in a store and get lost.”

She begins sobbing.

“That must feel really scary.” I said.

More sobbing.

I felt so helpless.

She’s only 5 and a half and feeling such big things.

I sat there with her as she cried, offering comfort, and feeling like I can’t reach her all in the same moment.

We have a road ahead of us navigating these emotions, but I’m also hopeful that God will use her sweet and deep heart for His glory.

Every year this day comes: May 4.

For us, it’s not Star Wars Day, but instead a day of remembrance of our journey when Brent was so sick, now 8 years ago.

It’s a day where we reflect on God’s goodness and steadfastness through that particularly difficult season.

It’s the day that kicks off the beginning of a really hard season of uncertainty, pain, yet wrapped in hope and beauty as I see where we are now.

I am grateful God spared my husband’s life and has allowed us to add three additional girls to our crazy mix.

So, today I invite you to read about our journey and see God’s goodness weaved throughout this season of our lives.

https://lardcupcakes.com/2021/05/05/this-day-7-years-ago/

https://lardcupcakes.com/2021/05/12/hope-and-decline/

https://lardcupcakes.com/2021/05/20/growing-hope/

https://lardcupcakes.com/2021/05/26/baby-steps/

https://lardcupcakes.com/2021/06/02/painfully-aware/

https://lardcupcakes.com/2021/06/09/learning-to-walk/

https://lardcupcakes.com/2021/06/16/almost-home/