Normal is just a dial on the washing machine

What is normal anyway? Two parents, two and a half kids, a dog and a mini van?  A table for 4 or maybe even 6?  A kitchen with only one high chair? A dozen or so baby bottles for a newborn baby?  Locks on the lower kitchen cabinets so toddlers don't drag out the pots and pans?

Normal at the Bartlett house looks something like this:

Mom who is 54.
Kids ranging from birth to 16.
Kids of various races.
Kids....many kids.
Three tables, one that seats eight and two that seat four each to hold the people who dine here on any given day.
One to three high chairs depending on who is there.
Feeding pumps instead of bottles to feed the babies.
Oxygen in the corner in case it is needed.
Locks on every cabinet within anyone's reach.
All medications are locked up including the Desitin.
Seven car seats but not all being used at the same time.
Five strollers, just in case.

I love our normal.  I thrive on being a mommy, but I get tired, too.  I wouldn't change being a foster and adoptive mom for anything....not even an air conditioned condo on the beach with servants to tend my every wish and all the Tony Roma ribs I can eat.

Normal to us has been four car seats in the van, having to take two vehicles to church to get everyone there.  There have been years that our church nursery was staffed based on our attendance.  We haven't ever been able to take a spontaneous family trip.  A family trip to us is packing everyone up and going to a ballgame across town or to a local restaurant.   It takes no less than 30 minutes to gather and load everyone today.  In years past, it could take an hour or more to prepare for dinner out with the kids.

Dinner out with the Bartlett's is always an adventure.  I remember the Sunday afternoon we decided to pack up and go to the lake to one of our favorite restaurants.  It was a lovely little place with windows all along one side that allowed patrons (and most importantly our children) to see the lake in all its beauty. Water holds some sort of mesmerizing effect on most children. Between the water and the buffet of of every sort of dish imaginable, it was perfect for us.   What we didn't foresee was Baby D.  While Baby D was fed exclusively by a feeding tube, he needed social time.  We are required to expose our children to social situations as much as possible and must document our efforts.

Once seated, we began to take turns filling kids plates and then our own.  Baby D lay quietly in his car seat while all of this took place.  About the time we all had our plates full and the waitress brought our drinks, Baby D came to the conclusion that he was in an evil place.  His eyes got so wide, I thought they would pop out of his head.  Just as I thought he would be okay, the waitress spoke to him in Chinese.  That was it!  He began to shake and cry.  He quickly began screaming like an Indian on the war path.

The waitress came to our table with a panic look on her face and said, "Your baby cry.  He needs to stop."  All the while, we are trying to console him, we are also trying not to laugh at the scene before us.  Five young children and two adults were quietly eating at our table as if nothing out of the ordinary was taking place.  Lee was standing with Baby D trying to convince him that he would survive to see another day.  The waitress was becoming frantic.  She said, "Your baby loud.  You take him home.  Make him stop cry."  Lee and I looked at each other and cracked up.  Lee took the baby into the parking lot and walked with him until the home health nurse had finished her meal, then they changed positioned.  Lee came in to eat and Darlene walked the parking lot with Baby D while he screamed.  The waitress continued to watch the front door for fear that someone might bring Baby D back inside.  We finished our meal and headed home.  The waitress will probably never be the same.  For the Bartlett's, this is normal.

May your day be full of laughter.

Judy