My Beautiful Chaos

“Chaos: When the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future.” – mathematician Edward Lorenz, of chaos theory

I don’t think anything quite prepares you for the chaos that is everyday life with four little kids. I mean, as an FP who masqueraded as a TJ most of my life, I do a reasonable job keeping a routine and general daily expectations for the kids, but really there’s an unavoidable degree of disorder. There’s the usual, sort of baseline, chaos: putting someone’s shirt on while helping another find socks; flossing for one while squeezing toothpaste out for another. Answering one question while trying to listen to a very slow and convoluted description from someone else. The usual multi-tasking of chores while trying to be simultaneously aware of various emotional needs and verbal dialogues.

Then there’s the bigger derailments, like one person having a bad mood all day, or another not napping all day, or what happened this past week: one getting sick, followed by others getting sick, followed by my getting sick. It all can just turn on a pin, and go from routine to difficult, or from expected to unexpected, in an instant.

Part of me loves the chaos that comes with a big family. I’ve always loved big, bustling holidays and family reunions; the feeling that there are lots of people who love each other, together making lots of bustle and noise. Well, we definitely have that. We have holidays every single day around here. Can’t say I particularly like the chaos involved in the minivan-gymnastics of buckling in and unbuckling out four kids every time we go anywhere, or in having to clean tons of sippy cups and do laundry all the time. But the crazy, sometimes-loud loving and bustling: I love that.

Still, it can wear on you after a while. For one, it can be draining in an oddly lonely way. I mean, when Dave asks me how the day went, what do I even say? “Well, the house looks tidy and calm now but you have no idea how crazy it was five minutes ago.. I had this really sweet moment with Elijah.. then another moment when I almost lost it at him.. the baby didn’t nap the whole day.. I felt like I was holding her the whole day, though I guess I wasn’t literally holding her every minute.. the kids discovered a puddle to bike through outside and they loved that.. I don’t even remember the other stuff we did.. here, take the baby..” I mean, the other most chaotic time of my life was probably being on the wards in medical school, but even then you had a lot to show for it: a list of scut items checked off, admissions to present, workups to review. I think we have to recognize that the chaos of staying-at-home is a lot less acknowledged and understood.

I find moments of solitude and quiet when I can, but when the inevitable interruption comes (what? how can she be crying already? she was supposed to sleep for another hour!), I try to remind myself, it’s just part of life now, and this too shall pass, for better or worse. Sometimes, I try to tell myself I don’t have to get anything accomplished except for one thing: enjoy the kids. Enjoy the way they play, the way they think, the way they talk (“come w’you?” “I no fart! Emmy fart!”). The way Elijah’s butt sticks up in the air when he crawls into the minivan (a very slow process he insists on doing himself). The way their heads bounce up and down when they run. The way they are always running everywhere, like everything is an emergency. The way their cheeks and bellies and little limbs are so soft. The way Esme gets a double-chin when she grins. Their strange imaginations (the house is a lava lake! We must walk only on pillows or die!). That’s my life: trying to enjoy the beautiful chaos.