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.
The story of us. Part fifteen.
Read part one here.
Read part two here.
Read part three here.
Read part four here.
Read part five here.
Read part six here.
Read part seven here.
Read part eight here.
Read part nine here.
Read part ten here.
Read part eleven here.
Read part twelve here.
Read part thirteen here.
Read part fourteen here.
I kept waiting for Pierce to get easier. All of my kids are pretty even tempered, and while it feels like I constantly correct, obedience is something all of them are capable of. Pierce thinks he’s exempt from that expectation. He went through a phase of holding his breath when he didn’t get his own way. He’d crumple to the floor in a purple heap, so deprived of oxygen that he couldn’t even throw his fit anymore. We got through that one, and he started hitting his own head on the floor. One time he did it in the kitchen on the ceramic tile instead of the living room’s slightly more forgiving hardwood floor and that behavior was cured all on his own. He’s unlike any of my others, and has taught me that I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. But, we persist.
Pierce was born in October, and the following January Blaine went, again, to California. And when he came home, shock of all shocks, I did not have pregnancy news to share, as I had the two years prior. Life fell into a routine, and slowly, as Pierce got older and we found a new routine, things slowed down to a more manageable pace. Sundays are the hardest of my week, spent outside of the church sanctuary with a child who refuses to be quiet. Days at home though, life feels pretty normal.
Pierce walked at 14 months, and life got easier still. Still very high strung and now prone to biting, (Only siblings, thankfully. But still… I have one of those.) Pierce has changed my view on parenting. He’s humbled me, made me more compassionate to other mothers, and I have a challenge: to see who this little fiery spirit can become. He’s got loads of potential – if I can convince his that’s what he wants to have. It’ll have to be his idea though!
This spring, I found out I was pregnant, but just days later, I miscarried. Not long after, I found I was pregnant again, but again, I miscarried, this time a little bit further along. I’ve had friends who have mentioned miscarriages, and I have to admit, I didn’t have a clue. I didn’t understand. I couldn’t possibly. Now, painfully, I know. My miscarriages were both early, and that seems easier than later on, but easier isn’t really a good word to describe any of it. It’s awful. It made me realize, all the more, how sacred life is. How privileged I am to raise these children I've been given, how incredible the time God gives us is. Hard, hard lessons to learn.
But there’s more. And our story is still being written. Next Saturday will bring my story up to now, and will be the final installment, at least for a while, of the Story of Us.