It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World!

Several years ago, as a mom of three boys, I wrote a nice little piece trying to adequately shine a light on what life is like when Mom is outnumbered 4 to 1. I wrote about dirt, mud, Lego's everywhere, baseball gloves on my kitchen counter, and learning to throw a spiral. Fast forward a few years and I'm outnumbered 5 to 1, seemingly insurmountable odds for an old, tired Mom; but I do my best. I try to handle every situation with grace and aplomb, leaving tiny examples of parenting prowess along the way.

Ha! Kidding! I'm just trying to keep them all fed and the house somewhat presentable for when the Directv guy shows up! Either way it's still a crazy, wild, stinky, busy, male-dominated existence, and believe it or not, I can't imagine Kirkland any other way.

1. Toys. There are still Lego's everywhere. I actually think my feet have become accustomed to the feel of sharp plastic digs in the middle of the night. Nevertheless, I find them in the fridge, the washing machine, and of course, the sofa.

2. Dirt. There's still a lot of it, but now it's embedded in baseball pants and football jerseys, tracked in on the bottom of the cleats of a left-handed boy who played a double header and out of sheer exhaustion forgot to leave them in the garage.

3. Food. The incessant demand for full tummies has only increased as the mouths have multiplied and the older boys have added inches to their bios. I bought two bags of chips, three bags of Goldfish, and a 16 count bag of string cheese on a Friday afternoon and by Sunday they were ALL complaining that there was no food in the house. Speaking of Goldfish, the pretzel kind to be exact, someone forgot a bag of them in the bathroom????? Not exactly what I was expecting when I went in to pick up dirty laundry.

4. Sports. Tate hung a mini Nerf basketball in my living room (my Living room!) and now my Haverty's ottoman serves as the jump off for slam dunking. Aaannndddd, basketball isn't even our signature sport. What we do have are footballs, and they are everywhere: backyard, frontyard, minivan, Camry, bedrooms and bathrooms. We toss footballs in the pool, we catch passes on the couch, we run for yards around the kitchen and living room and back, all with the prelude "mom, watch this!" That same ottoman gets moved around quite a bit for wrestling matches and we don't even wrestle for sport! The ottoman's matching couch has become the go-to for flat-footed box jumping and the arm now shows the wear and tear from that. I will not be purchasing new furniture any time soon.

5. Gadgets. I can remember when the VCR/TV combo was the extent of entertainment for the boys. We moved on to the Nintendo DS, and lost those and found them; took them away for punishment and returned them. The boys grew and so did technology, and they scored Ipod touches and finally phones! And we lose them and find them; take them away for punishment, then return them. Tate and Tru aren't far behind, and although they do not OWN Iphones, they operate them as if they invented them.

6. Noise. I think it goes without saying that we could in fact be known as the Loud House, if not the Loud Family. We had a friend come by one day to watch some football, and, having never been in our surroundings before, continuously asked Billy, quite politely, "is it always like this? you know, so . . . busy?" What I think he was trying to say was, "Dude, this place is Nuts!" Was I offended? No! I quite often tell Billy I feel like the Ringmaster of a three ring circus, one ring of acrobats (kids hanging upside down from something), one ring of lions(someone always yelling and pawing the air), and one ring with a juggler (me- with my daily planner, school lunch supplies, and a load of laundry on my hip).

I remind myself often that there is a special place in Heaven for moms of boys; I can't help but wonder, though, does that mean there will be lots of pink, ring-free bathtubs, and stink-free toilets? Will the kitchen clean itself and the fridge contain all the foods that I like? Will there be peace and quiet and crumb-free carpets? Will my clothes be free from the stains from a sticky-fingered hug? Will I go to the bank and not have to pray that a child doesn't pull a fire-alarm(3/4 of mine have done that)? Will I be able to read a book without interruption or watch a tv show with out hitting the pause button?

I hope not. As tempting as all that sounds, I wouldn't know what to do with myself.



I'm just not me without them.

Truett Kirk, Linebacker, 3rd Season, Team Kirk, 40 pounds, 2 Feet Tall

Around our house, we can't celebrate the new year without celebrating a birthday. On New Year's Day 2014, after a week of Peach Bowl fun and activities and a great game between Duke and Texas A&M, we settled in for a quiet, boring evening. Billy had brought home with him a touch of the stomach flu and had already retreated to the bed, so I had begun preparing a small supper for the boys and me. And that was the end of that quiet, boring New Year's Day of 2014, and essentially the end of any other opportunities for quiet or boredom at our house, in 2014 or the years since.

After a night of labor, the typical New Year's Day staff changes(think 10-15 nurses), and my doctor returning from a ski trip just in time, Truett Harris Kirk joined Team Kirk at 5:46 am. He was, as Dr. Goggin had said throughout my whole pregnancy, a "good Looking boy." He is still a good looking boy, but he's a whole lot more than that now. He's mischief and mayhem, kitty cat chaser, mess maker, and 100% boy. He's Tucker and Tanner and Tate made over again. Basically, he's the perfect addition to our team.

When Tate joined our family, we were jokingly reminded that we were leaving man-to-man defense and heading into zone, and pretty much, "Good Luck with that!" Now that Truett makes it two parents versus 4 kids, I feel like we've left the zone behind and are playing a full-on tackle football game without any refs, instant replays, or time-outs. There. That just about sums it up. We've got too many men on the field some days, blocks in the back, encroachment, and nobody there to throw a flag. Now imagine the ESPN highlight reel that plays over and over: same chop block, same missed field goal, same missed signal from coach to quarterback, on replay forever and ever, or at least for another 15 or so years.

Alas, we are a football family, so I always have a whistle or two on hand; I'm learning when to expect the fake pass or punt, and improving my 40 yard dash time has gotten me to some serious situations in just the nick of time. Luckily, Daddy knows all the plays and can corral the squad most of the time, and when we finally get to sit back and watch those replays decades from now, I suspect they will look less like NFL hard hits and cheap shots and more like an innocent game of flag football, a beautiful mess of little ones on a mission to become men.

So as our newest recruit begins his third season and settles into the offense, I hope and pray he is watching the bigger boys, learning from his frequent penalties, and growing with each punishment, workout, and timeout. I also pray that God is guiding these two coaches who are responsible for the kind of player he becomes, both on the field and off. I pray that I find the perfect play call for every situation that arises and call it at just the right time. I pray often. I pray especially that I will be wise enough to appreciate the chaos, the noise, the messes, the aftermath of a good time with a busy, big family, because there's nothing more sad than a quiet, lonely football field during the off season. I pray daily. For him. For me. For us. For Team Kirk.


Happy 3rd Birthday to the 6th member of our team-- here's to a future filled with championships, milestones, trophies, awards, and rewards. Here's to becoming the player/person you were born to be!