Primarily written by Adrienne, a homeschooling mother of seven, ages 10 and under. She chronicles life, laughs, struggles, and lessons learned as she raises a larger-than-most sized family and tries to figure out what she's doing day by day.

With occasional posts, Alexandra, Adrienne's older sister, writes of her ranch life in Nevada and raising four sons, ages 5 and under. Life is never dull and her boys have given her some pretty awesome stories to tell.

Stick around awhile, and you're sure to laugh, nod, smile, be encouraged, and see what life is like with a big (little) family.


I like your perspective.

Back when I was single (in my teens, mind you) I had this perfect ideal for who my husband would be, I didn’t pick thin. Nope, I wanted one bigger than me – by a lot. I did not have any desire to rival my husband for size – or worse yet, beat him hands down. But personality and values and beliefs trumped size – thankfully – and I married a man who barely outweighed me. And then I got pregnant. Six times. He didn’t leave me a whole lot of growing room before the inevitable happened. But Sterling informed me yesterday (after he asked how much I weighed and I told him that he must never, never ask a lady that question. And then I had to explain what a lady was.) that Daddy weighs lots more than me, because he’s bigger. I agreed – that must certainly be true. Blaine walked in right then, caught the gist of the conversation, and agreed Sterling was most certainly right. Wise man.

Have I ever mentioned I was going to marry a redhead? That didn’t work out so well either. I’d planned for a bunch of redheaded babies. But these blond ones are awfully cute. Turns out, God had different plans than I did – better ones for sure. I’m so glad. So thankful for my blond, thin husband. So thankful.

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