"I Want MY Mommy!!!!"

It occurs to me that both Keri and I have noted more than once how close the kids are, how they play and fight and love each other like siblings. And it's true, they do think of each other that way. Last year, when Keri and Matty were away for a long weekend and I was spending some Q-time with Declan, he asked me to draw a picture of him with his two sisters, Erika and Hilary.

However, I want to make it perfectly clear that the kids have no confusion where their parents are concerned. Our setup is not at all like a kibbutz I read about when I was in high school, where all the adults were parents to all the kids, and there were no nuclear family units. In fact, it amazes me sometimes how little cred I hold with Declan (Ronan likes me a lot) given that I bet he can't remember a time we didn't live in the same house. And it's not just Declan: every morning, Erika, Hilary and Declan jockey to see whose mom is driving to the bus stop, then preschool. The kids have all been known to refuse help from an aunt or uncle with the hopes that their own mother will tie the shoelace, get the juice, zipper the coat, buckle the carseat.

Hilary has even hurled those four defiant words at Keri, the ones that make you want to stop the car and put the kid out on the curb: "YOU'RE NOT MY MOTHER!"

And I'm sure she won't be the last one to say it.

It amazes me sometimes, how tightly attached the kids are to their own parents, despite the constant presence of so many relatives and caregivers. There certainly have been many days when the twins spent more time with Marina and Oat than they did with me. And I don't think I'm the first mom who has feared off and on, since we hired Marina seven years ago, that the kids would love the nanny more than they do me. But after going through this five times, I can say with absolute certainty that it doesn't happen. Sure, sometimes Gretchen will ask for "Mina," but when I come home after being out all afternoon both babies toddle over to me and throw their arms around my legs and cry, "Mommy!" And the older kids would clearly rather me play with them, read them stories and give them baths than anyone else.

Maybe it shouldn't amaze me. Maybe it's all about who gets up with the kids during the night. From the time they were babies, it was me who nursed them when they were hungry, rocked them when they were restless, and lay down beside them when they were sick or scared.

In other words, I've put in the time.

It doesn't really explain, however, why my kids are so attached to Andy - who is the adult in the house they clearly see the least, especially during the week. When he comes home from work, they all are transported into fits of hysterical devotion. I mean, he does spin them around so high their sneakers practically scrape the ceiling, but is that really enough?

I guess what I'm trying to say is, the logical workings of parental attachment remain a mystery to me. But I can say for certain that it does work - no matter how many wrenches you throw into the system, no matter how many other perfectly nice, perfectly caring adults are around to lure a child's affections. They may be momentarily intrigued, but in the end, they never fall for it.

How The Other Half Lives

Keri and Matty and the boys are up in Boston for the long weekend, visiting their old stomping grounds.

And boy, is it quiet around here.

Keri posted about this phenomenon after Thanksgiving, when our house emptied of all the extra kids who were visiting for the holiday: how easy it is to get used to one level of chaos, and how peaceful it feels when that chaos is lowered substantially, even if the new level is way above what most people experience on a daily basis. This has led me to remark to Marina, truthfully and unironically, during those weeks that Keri and Matty take the boys to Ireland every year, "It sure is quiet with only five kids around."

And now, with Jonah also gone, and just four neurotypical kids in the house, I think I'm experiencing, for the first time since Jonah was diagnosed, what life is like for most people. Not that many of my friends have four kids, but a lot have three, and that's close enough.

How is it different? Less fighting, for one thing. I'm not sure why, but Hilary hardly every fights with Erika, although she and Declan go at it several times a day - probably because they're so close in age, neither one is willing to grant the other the clearly defined leadership role that Erika enjoys with all the kids. Also, from a purely mathematical perspective, with Ronan gone, that reduces the insane amount of baby snatching, hitting, crying, etc. that typically goes on around here by a third.

And with the Fisher-Murphys out of town, the ages of the remaining kids fall into a more typical distribution. Most parents don't have 3 - soon to be 4 - kids under the age of 2, who need to be closely supervised. Generally, in large families, the neediness of the younger kids is balanced by the independence of the older kids. This weekend, at least, I can see that even large families can enjoy long, peaceful stretches of time. Erika and Hilary - like most school-aged children, I assume - disappear into the bowels of the house and do their own thing, either separately or together, for hours. The twins are asleep before eight each night and take afternoon naps - which is what they're doing right this second. Since I don't have to keep a constant eye on Jonah, to make sure he doesn't decide to throw his sneakers off our balcony or try to make a soft pretzel in the microwave and spill an entire pound box of kosher salt on the kitchen floor, I can relax and catch up with my blogging.

Is this where I'm supposed to stop and say that, despite the calm, I miss Keri, Matty, Declan and Ronan like crazy and can't wait for them to come back?

I don't really miss them that much, honestly. They haven't been gone long enough. And changes in routine are always nice, especially when they allow you to take a deep breath and relax a little. But I have to say, I was never very good at relaxing. As much as I enjoy a good vacation, I'm always even more excited to come home. Because when it comes right down to it, I love the crazy vitality of our day-to-day life. I love the intellectual and creative energy of four smart, thoughtful and interesting adults constantly bouncing ideas off one another. And I especially love watching seven children grow into people, with their own, very different identities, knowing that the sparks of love and conflict and imagination and yes, empathy, that fly with every encounter are and will continue to be instrumental in shaping them into the fascinating personalities they are all well on their way to becoming.