Keys? check... Purse? check... Kids? umm...

A phrase I use often:

"I feel like we're forgetting someone"

Now I don't know if you read that carefully but it read 'someone' not 'something'...big difference (I'm sure Child Abandonment Services would agree if they existed). 

Before vacations or all-day outings I here fellow Moms say "I feel like we're forgetting something" but I've never heard anyone say that they feel like they're forgetting 'someone.' I don't know if it's because they feel slightly guilty for having such a feeling but I'll be the first to admit that I am not; I haven't an ounce of shame in admitting that I have counted my brood on my fingers, double and tripled checked that all the little heads that needed to be with me were with me, and I may have even...hypothetically...done a rollcall. I've learned that calling roll is best used when there are three or more children under the age of five OR four or more children regardless of age. Okay, okay, so maybe I'm slightly ashamed of utilizing rollcall. I mean, I don't even remember teachers calling roll in school half the time because they would simply look around and see that all the right faces were present...and teachers are in charge of like twenty badass kids they have no relation to, so what do I look like when my rollcall consists of people I've birthed?

Forgive my ramblings but you guessed it - things have been crazy busy around here, but what else is new - right? 

We had five kids in the house (count 'em...FIVE!) for a little more than a week; I loved it, but it was go, go, go, nonstop movement, which is already typical in our house, but adding two teenagers into the mix was, well, let's just say: interesting.

They're Cute + They Know it = Dangerous Combination (a.k.a Trouble)

The hubby and I didn't get more than five seconds alone at a time until late in the evening when all the kids were in their rooms, watching Netflix and planning who their next shaving cream victim was going to be. 

Seth, whom you may  notice I refer to as hubby, along with a slew of other names including but not limited to: Daddy, Sethy-Poo, Love, Lover, Babe, Baby... and typically don't call him Seth unless I'm aggravated, at which point 'Seth' just rolls off my tongue unconsciously. 

Anyhow, Seth...ahem...HUBBY is typically 'Bad Cop', while I take the easy way out and opt for the 'Good Cop' script, but we had an unplanned role-reversal once our house was taken over by minors this past week. 

You see - Daddy ended up being the one not saying a word when we would finally get the rugrats to bed at 1AM then hear loud crashes and delirious laughter less than ten minutes after tucking them in. 

Sethy-Poo was the one who laughed the hardest at the dinner table when a napkin-throwing fight would break out or our youngest would stand up in his chair and shake his bum to the nonexistent music. 

My Love would be the one asking for an encore of an original song performed by one of the children with questionable lyrics sprinkled throughout the chorus. 

My Pumpkin Pie would be the one shifting into drive while I was still scratching my head mumbling, "I feel like we're forgetting someone."

Baby would be the one with an ear-to-ear grin after watching the kids do unflattering impressions of other people. 

Hubby egged them on each and every time while I...okay, I admit I laughed and probably encouraged said behavior with my actions also BUT there were a few times where I flashed my 'Bad Cop' badge and gave 'the look' as Drake (my thirteen year old brother-in-law) called it (and you guessed it -  he indeed received that look on more than one occasion). 

I guess I never realized how hard it is to be the parent who shells out time-outs and looks of death most of the time. And I'm glad my Sethy doesn't give me grief about being the softy and consequentially leaving him with involuntarily being the stern parent when it's called for. 

And I don't know how he does it sometimes because our family is full of little comedians whose acts come so naturally, and their never-ending antics never cease to amaze me.

Owen and Aunt Krissy

One thing I do know is that watching those five in all their silliness reminds me of how good it feels to smile. And let me tell you - those kids sure do know how to make your face hurt from all the laughter...they also have the ability to make me question whether or not I need to start Child Abandonment Services where other mothers dealing with life's overloads could turn to for quick accountability tips such as rollcall (I'd bet that'd be a big hit) and counting heads, but those little child leashes disguised as backpacks would be banned and every mother owning one of those ridiculous things would have to burn it in a bonfire after getting branded with a letter 'F' for fail. 

Seriously.