There was a honeymoon period. When the babies slept all day long, the sun was out, birds-a-chirping, and meals were being delivered left and right. Five kids? Easy-peasy.

Then the babies woke up. The Spring weather got smacked in the face with cold breezes and occasional rain. The meals stopped. Then my reality set in.

What I have learned thus far about five kids (under 6):

One may draw stripes on his face with a marker, hoping to be an Indian.

One may go unnoticed a few hours with Indian stripes on.

One may not get those stripes washed off...because, A, there's no time for stripe washing, and B, what's the point of washing them off anyway...

There may never be a quiet moment. If you are one for peace and simplicity, five kids is not your cup of tea. In fact, if you are one to enjoy anything other than chaos, stay away from five kids.

Perfection? Something I used to strive for. I've been taught my whole life to avoid it, and now I know why. It's quite disappointing to learn that nothing can be perfect. It's a daily death to self, knowing that a to-do list may get but one task done and there are nine items left. The more I die to perfection, the less chaotic my home becomes (although the state of the chaos remains the same...it's a mind thing, you see).

You know you can actually nurse two babies at once while talking on the phone, while looking through a barn book with a two-year-old, while giving a three-year-old the "DON'T TOUCH THE FIRE" glare?. It can be done. It's not a favorite moment of the day, but it can be done.

Five kids means five extra people to love, and better, five extra people to love you back. With five, you can't even try to count the amount of hugs, kisses, cuddles, nuzzles, and love that goes around in one day. It's enough... enough to remind one why exactly one has have five kids.