Since my last post I have been surrounded by four children in the throws of the worst stomach flu I have seen in quite a while.  My days have been spent giving puke buckets, cleaning puke buckets, changing diapers, changing jammies, washing everything in sight and trying to comfort the poor sickly bodies that are constantly wanting to cling to me.

While doing these disgusting, yet mindless tasks, in between thought provoking episodes of Phinneaus and Ferb, I have had many a hours to contemplate what the “OctoMom”  has that I don’t (besides a higher level of insanity).

As I sit and look at my four children on this 5^th day of illness, I feel that I don’t have much left to give and am starting to get cranky at their neediness.  The mere thought of ever incubating one of these relentless creatures again is enough to chill me to the bone.  What could ever possess a person to have 8 babies at once?  How could they ever really believe that they could truly care for them all?

I am all for reproductive rights.  I believe that there should be science that intervenes when nature is on vacation.  I think that everyone that wants children should be able to have them (and those that don’t, not to).  I just think that there should be limits. Kids take money. Kids take patience. Kids needs take physical strength and ability to meet. Kids need time, lots and lots of time…especially when you have a bunch of them.

Having 4 kids has taught me about time management and multitasking.  When Brooklyn was sick as a baby, Eric and I nursed her through her first bout of stomach flu one eyedropper of water at a time.  The following year, when Kyan was around, we could split up, each taking a child and giving them our undivided attention. 

This year?  We were subjected to sheer chaos.

The scene went something like this:

Kyan was throwing up in the toilet which then made me start losing it along side him, barely managing to move his curly locks out of the way.  Meanwhile George is crying and trying to crawl up my leg and reach his hand in the toilet, Morty is lying on the floor crying and Brooklyn is screaming that she doesn’t feeeeeel good while Eric was trying his best not to toss his cookies like the rest of us weaklings.

We separated into Kyan, George and I lying on the floor of the Big Kid’s room with buckets by our side, Eric and Brooklyn mindlessly watching TV, feeling like crap and Morty, thank the lord, was asleep. This lasted for about 24 hours until we stopped puking, and the kids moved on to other…movements (aptly titled “A River Runs Through It” by Eric over at Mindfield).

From there, Eric went back to work and I was stuck in the basement with four sick, stinky kids who all wanted to be held at the same time.  It was/is charming and enough to make you want to pull out your entire head of hair one strand at a time to help ease the insanity.

So, as I listen to the cacophony of whines and cries, I can’t even imagine what the “Octomom’s” house is going to sound like when all those babies come home to join their 6 big brothers and sisters. 

I can’t imagine how she’s going to deal with the maternal guilt when it becomes obvious that she can’t comfort and care for all those babies without a team of support.  All I do know is that there is no way that I would want to be in her shoes, even for a million dollars.