I like it #4!

Like many parents of multiple kiddos, some days I just don't feel there is enough of me to go around. I have teenagers who want to talk about football practice or school or college visits while my 5 year old needs help finding the words "of" and "the" on soup cans. On the worst days, I worry that I am shortchanging one or all of them. I fear they will look back and remember having to earn my attention. So, I tiptoe into a dangerous world. I imagine life with one kid and one kid only. Dinners with only 3 at the table; no spills; no lefties bumping elbows with the person in the next seat. Laundry would happen only once a week. The grocery bill would be practically non-existent. Finally, there would be no competition. No shouting to be heard over another brother. No laps or couches to push another from. No yelling "Shotgun" as they race to the car. No one competing to read the "ABC" book while another does math problems at the table. No pleas from me to "let your brother finish and then I'll help."

Last week Tate competed in his first basketball game of the season. And because we are a big family, he had a big cheering section rooting for him in the stands. Every basket Tate scored, every steal he made, every rebound he grabbed was followed by claps and stomps and hoorays from me and Dad. But the biggest mouth on that bench was Tucker. Over and over, for four quarters, he clapped and whistled and repeated, "I like it #4!" Tate heard him every time and managed to glance our way when he did something special. Very quickly, my fears of anyone being shortchanged because of too many siblings was extinguished by another "I like it 4!"

Relief.

Reassurance.

With just four words from Tucker.

I stepped quickly out of that dangerous one-child world and back into mine. I like it here. I like the noise, the chaos, the mountains of sweatpants and jerseys. I like the chatter, the crowded table, and their needs that sometimes only I can meet; but I know now that when I can't meet those needs and there isn't enough of me to go around, they have each other:

Shouting from the stands; bumping elbows at the table; shooting hoops in the driveway; eating cereal late at night -- all the big stuff.