Cornucopia / Cynthia Dewes

Big families and the challenges, humor and love they provide

They don’t know what they’re missing, Or maybe they do, and they’re not thrilled at the prospect. At any rate, having big families is not the norm these days as it was in mine. Now, when we mention someone having five or six kids, we get horrified stares, but in my generation it was commonplace.

Partly this was true because Church‑approved methods of birth control weren’t very reliable. And most men, whose job was to provide for the family, could find employment which made this possible on one income. Now, it’s sometimes hard to do on two incomes.

That situation, like any choice, was not always pleasant. Women who were home all the time with the aforementioned five or six kids would get nutsy and yell, cry, and make their husbands suffer with them when they got home from work. And men might feel the burden of having to go to work all day, every day, for about 40 years at a job going nowhere.

Still, when we think back, we naturally remember the good times that came only with the crowd we called our family. I remember being a mean mother. I’d turn the kids outside after breakfast with orders not to come in except for the potty, so I could get the house somewhat cleaned up. And there was discipline to be doled out.

It was a mistake I kept making, but I would line the kids up and demand to know who committed the latest crime. Invariably they’d point to Peter, whom they knew would not be punished because he had a bad heart, and he would confess. So he’d be sent to his room for a few minutes, and the others would go out to play, smirking into their sleeves. If high‑fives had been invented then, I’m sure they would’ve used them, and I’m also sure that Peter did not go unrewarded by the others for his sacrifice.

Then there were the family vacations when we’d drive all over the country, camping out and seeing the sights. The pretend bears in Disneyland scared Andy so much that the rest of the day he was whimpering and acting up. A man sitting across from us on the shuttle bus kept staring at him until one of the kids said, “He’s retarded. What’s your excuse?” That was one of those times when the parent was conflicted between congratulating your child or punishing him for disrespect.

With a big family, there’s never a lack of available playmates. Even if you don’t count brothers and sisters, there are neighborhood kids from other big families all over the place, all too eager to play. And they stay for lunch or dinner and would probably just move in if their mother didn’t finally send a sibling over to fetch them. Needless to say, big meals were also the order of the day.

There is much humor in a large family. Kids say the darndest things, and more kids say even more, all hilarious. And the more kids, the more opportunities to learn about what’s acceptable in life and what isn’t. Siblings tattle on each other, but they also learn empathy. And when someday they have children of their own, they understand why Mom or Dad did what they did, much as they may have disliked it at the time.

Being part of a big family was the best thing that ever happened to me. And I think my kids feel the same way.
 

(Cynthia Dewes, a member of St. Paul the Apostle Parish in Greencastle, is a regular columnist for The Criterion.) †