People ask us all the time what it's like living in a house with seven kids, two English Mastiffs, enough coffee to concern medical professionals, and a family that somehow keeps adopting inside jokes faster than we can explain them.
The honest answer?
We have absolutely no idea.
We're just making it up as we go.
And somehow...
It's working.
Well... most days.
Let's start with the coffee.
Someone once asked me how much coffee is "too much."
My completely professional and scientifically backed answer?
Until you're shaking like a Chihuahua.
Please don't use me as your doctor.
I also can't remember the last time I actually finished a cup while it was still hot.
I hear people do that.
It sounds nice.
Maybe one day.
Then there are the phrases every family seems to have.
Some become traditions without anyone remembering exactly when they started.
Ours are a mixture of equal parts affection, gentle chaos, and repeated reminders.
"I love you more."
"To the moon and back."
"I love you a bushel and a peck."
"You are my sunshine."
Mixed somewhere between those are the daily classics:
"GO TO BED!"
"Don't touch that."
"Oh dear."
"No, one more time."
"Don't go that way. Never go that way."
"Only on Thursdays."
"Roll the dice."
Somehow, those words have become the soundtrack of our home.
The sweet reminders that no matter how old our kids get, they'll always know they're deeply loved.
The silly phrases that make absolutely no sense to anyone else.
The gentle nudges that keep seven kids, two dogs, and a handful of adults moving in roughly the same direction.
Honestly, if someone secretly recorded our conversations, they'd probably assume we were speaking an entirely different language.
And in a way...
They'd be right.
Then there are the dogs.
Naomi, lovingly known as Mimi, is the responsible adult in the relationship.
Patient.
Sweet.
Always trying to keep everyone else in line.
Zoey...
Zoey wakes up every morning and chooses chaos.
She's a lovable, oversized goofball with exactly three thoughts at any given time, and somehow all three of them are questionable.
One of her favorite hobbies is dramatically rolling onto her back and scratching herself across the floor as if she's been completely neglected for years.
The performance is Oscar-worthy.
We're all very impressed.
The kids aren't much different.
One evening we brought home KFC for dinner.
Maisy came sprinting into the room with absolute confidence and excitement, yelling,
"OH MY! OH MY! DID WE GET UNCLE DONALD'S?!"
To this day, McDonald's has never recovered.
Then there was Pancake Extravaganza.
The reward of all rewards.
Fresh pancakes covered in caramel, whipped cream, cherries, chocolate syrup, honey, powdered sugar, and enough sprinkles to make a bakery jealous.
The kids who had been making great choices got the full experience.
The kids who... had not...
Got pancakes.
Just...
Pancakes.
Let's just say life lessons occasionally come with fewer toppings.
Parenting is weird.
Speaking of parenting...
There was the afternoon every single child somehow decided poor Seraphina looked like an excellent target for sibling shenanigans.
Tia lined everyone up and started giving them "the mom talk."
Before she could finish, Seraphina threw her hands in the air and shouted,
"THEY'RE BEING ASSHOLES!"
Now...
Were we supposed to laugh?
Absolutely not.
Did we?
Immediately.
The lecture ended because nobody could breathe through the laughter.
Sometimes parenting chooses for you.
The stories never stop.
Seraphina once refused to let Serenity brush her teeth because...
"Your hair's not even done yet!"
Maisy bravely crossed her preschool graduation stage with both hands covering her face because there were simply too many people looking at her.
Ulric has somehow mastered the art of combining knock-knock jokes with commercials.
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Like a good neighbor... State Farm is there."
I wish I were making that up.
And every single time Pawpaw walks through the front door, little Appa appears out of nowhere asking,
"Pawpaw! Whatcha doing? Whatcha eating?"
Which, translated, means,
"I'll be sharing your lunch now."
Then there's life with D&D.
If you've ever lost a twenty-sided die...
We probably have it.
Somewhere.
Maybe in a shoe.
Maybe in a diaper bag.
Maybe in the dog's mouth.
Maybe in a backpack.
Possibly inside another dimension entirely.
We've stopped asking questions.
Living together the way we do isn't what most people picture.
Mealtime feels more like a cafeteria than a quiet family dinner.
The laundry has accepted victory over us.
There is always someone talking.
Someone laughing.
Someone asking where their shoes are.
Someone starting a project.
Usually me.
And someone reminding me to actually finish that project.
Also usually me.
From the outside, I imagine it looks exhausting.
Some days...
It is.
But here's the thing.
Years from now, I don't think our kids will remember whether the house was spotless.
They'll remember "Uncle Donald's."
They'll remember Zoey's dramatic floor performances.
They'll remember Pancake Extravaganza.
They'll remember laughing so hard that nobody could finish a lecture.
They'll remember dancing under patio fairy lights while music played, Pawpaw picked up his guitar, and everyone—from toddlers to grandparents—forgot about everything else for a little while.
They'll remember hearing "I love you more" before bed.
They'll remember being told they were loved "to the moon and back."
They'll remember singing "You Are My Sunshine."
They'll remember feeling like they belonged.
Because when all is said and done, that's what a family is made of.
Not spotless floors.
Not perfect schedules.
Not everything going according to plan.
It's built one memory, one inside joke, one bedtime phrase, and one belly laugh at a time.
Our house isn't perfect.
It's loud.
It's messy.
It's wonderfully unhinged.
But it's filled with love, laughter, and people who genuinely enjoy being together.
And honestly...
That tracks.
Until next time, there's always another chair by the fire waiting for you.
— Cara
The honest answer?
We have absolutely no idea.
We're just making it up as we go.
And somehow...
It's working.
Well... most days.
Let's start with the coffee.
Someone once asked me how much coffee is "too much."
My completely professional and scientifically backed answer?
Until you're shaking like a Chihuahua.
Please don't use me as your doctor.
I also can't remember the last time I actually finished a cup while it was still hot.
I hear people do that.
It sounds nice.
Maybe one day.
Then there are the phrases every family seems to have.
Some become traditions without anyone remembering exactly when they started.
Ours are a mixture of equal parts affection, gentle chaos, and repeated reminders.
"I love you more."
"To the moon and back."
"I love you a bushel and a peck."
"You are my sunshine."
Mixed somewhere between those are the daily classics:
"GO TO BED!"
"Don't touch that."
"Oh dear."
"No, one more time."
"Don't go that way. Never go that way."
"Only on Thursdays."
"Roll the dice."
Somehow, those words have become the soundtrack of our home.
The sweet reminders that no matter how old our kids get, they'll always know they're deeply loved.
The silly phrases that make absolutely no sense to anyone else.
The gentle nudges that keep seven kids, two dogs, and a handful of adults moving in roughly the same direction.
Honestly, if someone secretly recorded our conversations, they'd probably assume we were speaking an entirely different language.
And in a way...
They'd be right.
Then there are the dogs.
Naomi, lovingly known as Mimi, is the responsible adult in the relationship.
Patient.
Sweet.
Always trying to keep everyone else in line.
Zoey...
Zoey wakes up every morning and chooses chaos.
She's a lovable, oversized goofball with exactly three thoughts at any given time, and somehow all three of them are questionable.
One of her favorite hobbies is dramatically rolling onto her back and scratching herself across the floor as if she's been completely neglected for years.
The performance is Oscar-worthy.
We're all very impressed.
The kids aren't much different.
One evening we brought home KFC for dinner.
Maisy came sprinting into the room with absolute confidence and excitement, yelling,
"OH MY! OH MY! DID WE GET UNCLE DONALD'S?!"
To this day, McDonald's has never recovered.
Then there was Pancake Extravaganza.
The reward of all rewards.
Fresh pancakes covered in caramel, whipped cream, cherries, chocolate syrup, honey, powdered sugar, and enough sprinkles to make a bakery jealous.
The kids who had been making great choices got the full experience.
The kids who... had not...
Got pancakes.
Just...
Pancakes.
Let's just say life lessons occasionally come with fewer toppings.
Parenting is weird.
Speaking of parenting...
There was the afternoon every single child somehow decided poor Seraphina looked like an excellent target for sibling shenanigans.
Tia lined everyone up and started giving them "the mom talk."
Before she could finish, Seraphina threw her hands in the air and shouted,
"THEY'RE BEING ASSHOLES!"
Now...
Were we supposed to laugh?
Absolutely not.
Did we?
Immediately.
The lecture ended because nobody could breathe through the laughter.
Sometimes parenting chooses for you.
The stories never stop.
Seraphina once refused to let Serenity brush her teeth because...
"Your hair's not even done yet!"
Maisy bravely crossed her preschool graduation stage with both hands covering her face because there were simply too many people looking at her.
Ulric has somehow mastered the art of combining knock-knock jokes with commercials.
"Knock knock."
"Who's there?"
"Like a good neighbor... State Farm is there."
I wish I were making that up.
And every single time Pawpaw walks through the front door, little Appa appears out of nowhere asking,
"Pawpaw! Whatcha doing? Whatcha eating?"
Which, translated, means,
"I'll be sharing your lunch now."
Then there's life with D&D.
If you've ever lost a twenty-sided die...
We probably have it.
Somewhere.
Maybe in a shoe.
Maybe in a diaper bag.
Maybe in the dog's mouth.
Maybe in a backpack.
Possibly inside another dimension entirely.
We've stopped asking questions.
Living together the way we do isn't what most people picture.
Mealtime feels more like a cafeteria than a quiet family dinner.
The laundry has accepted victory over us.
There is always someone talking.
Someone laughing.
Someone asking where their shoes are.
Someone starting a project.
Usually me.
And someone reminding me to actually finish that project.
Also usually me.
From the outside, I imagine it looks exhausting.
Some days...
It is.
But here's the thing.
Years from now, I don't think our kids will remember whether the house was spotless.
They'll remember "Uncle Donald's."
They'll remember Zoey's dramatic floor performances.
They'll remember Pancake Extravaganza.
They'll remember laughing so hard that nobody could finish a lecture.
They'll remember dancing under patio fairy lights while music played, Pawpaw picked up his guitar, and everyone—from toddlers to grandparents—forgot about everything else for a little while.
They'll remember hearing "I love you more" before bed.
They'll remember being told they were loved "to the moon and back."
They'll remember singing "You Are My Sunshine."
They'll remember feeling like they belonged.
Because when all is said and done, that's what a family is made of.
Not spotless floors.
Not perfect schedules.
Not everything going according to plan.
It's built one memory, one inside joke, one bedtime phrase, and one belly laugh at a time.
Our house isn't perfect.
It's loud.
It's messy.
It's wonderfully unhinged.
But it's filled with love, laughter, and people who genuinely enjoy being together.
And honestly...
That tracks.
Until next time, there's always another chair by the fire waiting for you.
— Cara
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