Redbook and Pandamoniam

Sometimes I wonder why I say "yes" to anything. There must be a certain level of instant insanity or amnesia that overcomes most mothers at times when they are asked if they will volunteer for anything. Maybe it is a "mom weakness" or a constant desire to please or make things a little better for someone else. Occasionally, I find that I say yes because I want some sense of having more time on my hands to do things I believe I will enjoy.

In this case, the "yes" was to what I thought would be a simple interview on how or why we had allowed our family to grow to include eleven children. Really the answer seemed simple or the task seemed simple. I just did not recognize there could be anything beyond the interview.

I wanted to sound relatively sane and normal. Not be too far left or right. Seem like everyone who only had two or three children. For some reason, those mothers and fathers seem more acceptable to the average person on the street. No one makes exclamations of "You must have your hands full!" or " I bet you have lots of patience all the time." They just don't throw out those kind of near pre-destinations.

"Regular families" seem to get more nods and smiles. They go noticed with approval. Their lives look more simple. Larger families seem to attract attention no matter how low key you work to keep their lives. Simple is rarely a word used to describe their lives.

In our case, the not so regular family with the not so regular routine as of late, came crashing into the "we need a schedule" wall very quickly over the last 3 weeks. The little interview I had, quickly grew into an interview and "photo shoot".

For most people, no worries. They do a little extra shoushing. They buy fresh flowers and exile the pets to the neverlands. They dress up after hot showers and new hair cuts. Viola!! beautiful family and house. Wonderful pictures!!!! What more could you ask for ?

In our case we had a few, shall we say, kinks in the works. First - they needed all the kids home. Well, how could I convince two college students that the ultimate weekend entertainment was coming home, helping clean, put up with my stress and have their picture taken for a national (not local) magazine? Plus- do it with as much positive spin as possible?

Next- well there is the fact we live in a 100+yo farm house basically constantly under some level of upgrading or repair. Nothing can be done one step at a time. Everything seems to have 3-6 levels of needs to be met before any project is completed. We had hit the wall with completing everything about four months ago. We were basically burnt out from working every spare moment on walls, floors, ceiling fans, electricity, plumbing, etc. You get the drift. We had a moratorium on the constant version of "This Old House" for the Coleman Clan.

Then there was the 10 pounds of paperwork that comes by mail, the tax information collecting in boxes and bags, the inundation of college intent letters piling up for both the senior and the current junior in high school and of course, homeschool work. There seems to be a private war against forests in our little corner of the world. We could heat the house two months out of the year on all the paper we sort through on a yearly basis.

Lastly, there was this small little nuisance of my attitude to pictures. I just don't do them. I hate them. I would be happy being the photographer and never be seen in any pictures -- EVER.

Funny how all of these things scream, "HALT " to the photo opportunity. But yet, I still kept the coorespondance and set the date. Made all the necessary phone calls and arrangements. Took off work. Kept talking to myself. "We can do this." "Maybe they can take pictures of Barry and the kids and I can sit calmly in the background." I was a smooth talker, I must admit. However, that is not how this went down.

We worked three days fairly diligently to assemble the house on the first floor more near its ultimate completion than ever before. We rallied around laundry piles and stacks of unmatched socks. We scoured tub, lavatories, and kitchen sinks. We painted and stained woodwork and walls. We vacuumed and scrubbed floors. Everything was at least shuffled out of the living spaces in attempt to make 1900 sq. ft look larger and accommodating.

I wish I could say I was goodness and light. I wish I could say the stress did not hurt us. I would be a liar. I was awful. Not because I wanted it so much for me, but I wanted them to see how wonderful my children actually are. I wanted them to see the life we have when I don't work too many hours and steal time from my kids to make the money we are needing to survive. I really wanted them to look at the house and not think I failed as a mother and woman at keeping my house clean and my children safe. I needed to make up for months of disorganization and exhaustion that kept me from keeping things organized, neat, and clean.

Thanks to the blessings of my husband, (who suffered at my evil tongue the most) and my children, we had a home that was met with smiles and compliments. Despite my efforts to drive them into exile with my awful fears of being "found unfit" to be included in this article.

Daniela Stallinger and her assistant, Erica, and Mark, the digital camera support, came into our home and found us normal. They found me behind and still cleaning. They discovered Lyndsay, doing some of the same. They were patient and tolerant. They heard all of Aidan's adventures told only as a 4 yo can tell them.

They found ways to overlook the unfinished and near done. They arranged people to fit the cross two-pages spread so that they were not in the fold. They laughed and made us laugh. They made it so that even I, could relax and allow her to do what she does best. Take excellent pictures.

So we sat in a group on the couch. Poor Daniela struggling to be smaller than the space between the 1 ton antique piano and the wall to get a better perspective. Some sat on the arms and on the back (with glances at me to tell them to get down). Some sat on the seats and on each other. Even the last remaining step ladder got placed into the act.

We moved the fidgety children to the kitchen and the table. Rory seemed to be in his heighth of ornery sitting beside me. Often making comments or causing reactions of his younger sisters. Some in front and the older ones in back, we arranged hair and arms and clothes, trying to make the best portrait of this large collection of individuals.

Finally, moved one last setting into the yard in front of the grove of trees. Walking, laughing, goofing around and doing the box step, we walked with purpose into the frames of her photos. She again laughed as we walked over things in the yard or accidently used children riding piggy back as jousting sticks between photos.

Once the shoot was over, we could breath. Then the fun actually began. They took pictures of the farm animals. They laughed at bad jokes. We quizzed them about life in New York and their travels and the people they encounter. All foreign to life on our quiet corner, here in southwestern Ohio.