We’re Proud To Be THAT Family – Scary Mommy

We’re Proud To Be THAT Family

You can see (or more likely hear) us coming from a mile away. You may think we’re playing charades as my husband and I make hand signals to each other, gritting our teeth and doing the silent threat to one of the kids: “This is it. Never again!” Only it’s the 1,000th never again that we’re attempting.

We do our best cleaning 10 minutes before we’re expecting company. And two minutes after the house is somewhat presentable, it’s already back to … well, normal.

When we stroll into church (and on a good Sunday we’re only running a few minutes late), it has been said on more than one occasion that the “entertainment” has arrived. Yep, we’re those people.

We probably turn the dryer on about five more times than necessary to “re” fluff the clothes that have been waiting to be folded for, wait… what day is it?


People in the grocery stores, malls, amusement parks … yes, they all love to hate us. We’re those people coming with two shopping carts, the double stroller (and trust me, nobody likes the lady taking up space pushing the double stroller), and with the kids dashing and darting everywhere they probably shouldn’t be.

It’s safe to say we haven’t slept in seven years and, more than likely, won’t for at least seven more.

We barely fit in our vehicle, and no matter if it’s a day trip or an overnight, we have to bring along 12 bags to sanely survive. But not to worry: if something should go missing, we could probably find an extra sock, a few pair of shoes, an extra sippy cup, pacifier or sweatshirts strewn throughout our vehicle in places you never even knew existed.

We have been invited to fewer and fewer places as our family keeps getting bigger and bigger and people’s tolerance for our sweet circus keeps getting shorter and shorter.

We buy enough food and toiletries to supply a small army, yet somehow, within days of our shopping extravaganza, paper towels, toilet paper, diapers or wipes will undoubtedly need to be purchased again.

Meal times usually consist of someone crying, screaming, bucking in their chair, or randomly getting out of their seat to go bust a move in the middle of the kitchen. One end of the spectrum or the other, no in between. Yep, that’s how we roll 23 hours a day, 6 1/2 days a week.

You can usually find me running around the house, nursing a baby in one arm and chasing two other toddlers with my “free” hand while being beckoned by another kiddo from another part of the house. The dog is barking. Someone is knocking at the door. The phone is ringing. And the smoke alarm is going off from my attempt at cooking. You read about these people and watch them in a movie, but no, that’s us. We’re those people.

Our bed is about four sizes too small. And by our bed, I mean the entire family’s bed, since no one likes to sleep in their own.

Snack time happens, or at least seems to happen, about all day, every day. When we go to someone’s house, you’d swear we hadn’t fed our children in weeks. Since they’re ages 6 and under now, it terrifies me to think of feeding them as teenagers.

I’m not ashamed that I look forward to pizza night each Friday or hesitant to admit I love our paper plates more than any dishware we own.


We work hard, and we play hard. We fight hard, but we love even harder.

Yep, we’re that family. That crazy one I envisioned for pretty much my entire life.

But to be honest, I wouldn’t want it any other way.

We’re crazy. We lost our minds long ago. We are deliriously exhausted … and deliriously in love.

In love with the crazy people that we get to call our family.

So, the next time you get the infamous eye roll, the whispers intentionally loud enough for you to hear, or feel that your family is completely abnormal and has completely lost it, you’re probably doing something right.

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