I could hear the ruckus outside—screams and shouts that I’ve grown accustomed to—but this time, it didn’t sound like it stemmed from anger or distress, so I chose to ignore it. Then, the banging started. Seriously? It was only 7:45 AM, and I was still darting in and out of the house, collecting backpacks, swim gear, lunchboxes, and the myriad of items necessary for the day ahead. With three kids—a 7-year-old and 5-year-old twins—it takes several trips to load the van. And, of course, it requires many reminders, threats, and a considerable increase in volume as I implore them to just put on their shoes and get into the car.
This is our usual chaos—our normal. Sadly, because my family resembles a circus, the scene unfolding at the end of the driveway was no different. The noise and commotion were all part of the act.
My three kids were enthusiastically wielding old badminton rackets, pretending to battle a garbage bin in the street, which they imagined was a monster. It quickly escalated, as it always does. Their shouts of “DIE!” and “KILL!” echoed through the morning air, and they began tossing the rackets while yelling “POW POW!” Just to clarify, we are generally a peaceful family, and my partner and I don’t typically condone throwing things while in close quarters.
By not even 8:00 a.m., my kids were already at peak pandemonium. If I were a more patient parent, I might have gently asked them to stop, to consider our neighbors, and to please get into the van. But if this is my circus, I’m the one in charge. There’s little room for calm words amidst the chaos, so instead, I shouted:
“CUT IT OUT! Someone’s going to get hurt, and I really don’t want to deal with that.” I hear laughter, a racket flies past my head, I grab a child by the hand and usher them into the car. “ENOUGH! Do you think Mr. Thompson wants to hear this? GET IN THE VAN!” I hear my children giggle, as they run in circles.
For context, Mr. Thompson is our neighbor—the poor guy. While I understand that not everyone appreciates an environment filled with our chaos, I also recognize that our chaos seems to permeate most situations. It’s just who we are. And before anyone suggests I need to revamp my parenting style, believe me, I’ve tried it all. I’ve explored countless techniques, words, and systems. The only method that seems to yield results is me losing my cool. I won’t say I’ve fully embraced this, but I no longer fight it.
In the past, I would feel immense anxiety before taking my kids out in public or hosting guests at our home, worried about how loud they might be. Every utterance seemed to require an exclamation point and a near-shout. It was exhausting to constantly urge them to quiet down. They simply can’t help it—they are kids, after all. So, I allow them to be loud. We either choose venues that are extremely family-friendly or stay home. When people visit, they need to either tune out my kids or tolerate their rambunctiousness as much as I do.
During a flight to visit my in-laws, I dreaded sharing a plane with my children and other passengers. However, as I navigated the chaos of three kids, carry-ons, and a much-needed coffee, I realized I had lost my capacity to care. When the kids plugged into their tablets or the airplane TVs, they shouted over whatever was playing in their headphones. They demanded snacks and spilled them everywhere. And they announced, quite loudly, whenever they needed to use the restroom—typically at the most inconvenient times. Strangers around us found their antics amusing; I found them a bit irritating. I was also somewhat frustrated with my partner, who managed to nap through the entire ordeal—mouth wide open, no less.
I could have been more diplomatic, but I insisted she wake up to assist me. I didn’t feel guilty, because snapping at each other is a part of a long-term relationship. It’s part of not taking things personally and a natural aspect of parenting. During our twins’ first year, we had a pact that anything said between midnight and 6:00 a.m. didn’t count. There was no denying that having three kids under three was anything but easy or enjoyable for most of the day. Even now, the kids are older, yet just as exhausting; we still find ourselves snippy with each other. Not all the time, but our sighs and eye rolls are not reserved for the confines of our home. Just like the kids, we are all out there.
A whirlwind seems to follow my family everywhere. From dropped ice cream cones to forgotten underwear in park bathrooms, and a backpack stuffed with snacks, water, and extra clothes, carrying sports gear and Happy Meals is just part of the madness. But once I decided to embrace our chaotic lifestyle, I noticed people started smiling at us. I saw relief on the faces of other parents nearby. I began to hear words of camaraderie. I realized that a life lived out loud also means a life filled with loud love. And if that’s what defines our traveling circus, so be it.
In conclusion, if you find yourself navigating similar family chaos, embrace it! Seek out support and resources that can help you along the way. For more information on home insemination, check out this comprehensive guide, and for insights into your fertility journey, you can visit this authoritative source.
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