Living Large, is a monthly column about the strange (at least from the outside looking in) lifestyle of a modern, large family.
Nearly every blog, book or collection of writing about large families that I have come across so far has a section on “uncomfortable questions”.
They’re always a funny read and most are tongue-in-cheek and thankfully, our family haven’t been asked most of the questions that I have seen on the blogs. There is one that I get asked all the time that’s not on any of the blogs. It’s “what do you do with all their hair?”.
There were a few questions on the blogs though that I could relate too. They are:
“Are they all yours?”
Oddly, we almost always get asked this when we only have a few in tow and then I enjoy replying: “No, the rest are at home.”
“Why do you have so many kids?”
Because these genes are too good to waste.
“So, will this one be your last?”
I hate this question. There’s no easy way to reply because the answer is complicated and usually just leads to more questions. Now that I am in menopause the answer is simpler though: “Probably, but not by choice.”
“Did you keep trying for a boy?”
In the beginning I used to joke that this was indeed what we were doing but most people didn’t realise it was a joke, so instead I say: “No, we have a theme and we are trying to keep it going.”
“When do you sleep?”
On the bus.
And my all time favourite rude question: “Were they all mistakes?”
I was so shocked, I was speechless!
Curiously, the question I am asked the second most is only sometimes rude. How can it only sometimes be rude? Well, it depends on the motivation of the asker.
The question itself is mostly innocuous. It is: How do you cope?
What I’ve learned with this question is that, depending on who is asking, it is actually a completely different question in disguise.
For example, sometimes the question is condescending and is tinged with well-meaning pity. What the person is really asking is, why? Why would you want to have so many children? Inwardly they are usually clutching their pearls.
Sometimes the tone is slightly mocking. The real question they’re actually asking is: “Are you insane?”
Sometimes the question is sincere. This is usually a person who genuinely wants to know because they are either very new to parenting and can’t fathom doing what they are at that moment half a dozen more times (been there — I can relate) or one of their children is particularly difficult and they are pulling their hair out (been there — I can relate).
Sometimes the question actually means: “Shouldn’t you be ridiculously poor?”
I know when “how do you cope?” has a silent “financially” tucked on at the end because before I can even think of answering they would add: “Children are so expensive.”
No matter the tone of the question, I always find this question the most difficult to answer, even though the truth of the matter is actually, very simple.
Whether the questioner is referring to money, sanity or time, the answer always is, “God provides”.
But here is the thing. Here is the clincher of why this is difficult to answer: Those who already know the answer, won’t ask but those who need to ask, usually don’t believe it.
The simple truth of the matter is God does provide. We have seen this in our daily lives. I have countless examples of how God has done extraordinary things for our family and it is mind-blowing but I will use just one example for now — the car.
As our family was growing, we obviously also needed a bigger vehicle. When we became a family of six, we made our first upgrade, from your regular five-seater Toyota Tazz, named Trinity, to a seven-seater Kia, named Martha.
Handsome Hubby was working in sales at a bank at the time and worked in close conjunction with car salesmen so he had his eye out for something good and eventually found what we were looking for.
A quick aside: On the day we fetched the new car, we told the kids, that they were getting a surprise. When we did the big reveal of the new car and strapped them all into the many car seats, we noticed a row of sad faces.
“What’s wrong?” Handsome Hubby asked. “Don’t you like your surprise.”
Eldest, after being prompted by meaningful looks from her sisters, replied: “We thought we were going to MacDonalds.”
🤨
Anyway, back to the original tangent, we thought we were getting a really good deal but we were wrong. When we traded the Kia, a newish brand at the time, for a Tazz, an old reliable, we were not aware how hard it would be to find replacement parts. I’ve been told that this has since changed but while the trusty Kia we drove at the time didn’t break down much, when it did, it was difficult to get back on the road.
But, God provided. Even in those times when the car stood waiting for repairs, we were never left behind. Through lifts with friends, kindly neighbours and public transport, we got around.
Then things got more difficult. Handsome Hubby was retrenched and was without work for a long while. The seven-seater broke again — the gearbox seized up — and we could not get the parts we needed.
A good friend and mechanic advised us to sell it broken and start over. This would become a pattern.
Interestingly, our ad for the broken car was nearing its expiry date and was a day away from falling off the free ad site when I got a call from a guy in Pretoria. He was looking for a seven-seater vehicle. I told him exactly what was wrong with the car. The next day, when the ad was no longer live, he called me back. He had found the replacement parts and wanted to drive down from Pretoria to see if he could fix the car. His plan was to buy it and drive it home again. In the meanwhile he sent his mechanic friend from a neighbouring suburb to check out the engine.
His friends, family and girlfriend, whose car he drove to Cape Town, all told him that he was insane but, later when we met, he told me that when he saw my ad, his gut had told him to go for it.
It was a tense moment when he, his father — for whom he was buying the car, his mechanic and friend who had alternated driving with him, prepared to start the car after having driven through the night to get to Cape Town and spending most of the day repairing the van in our yard.
When he finished the repairs and started the car without problems, his entourage all stood in open-mouthed silence as he lifted his head in prayerful thanks.
So, God provided for the guy. He got a seven-seater vehicle for a steal — but what about us? We were officially without a car. So, we started scouring the same site that had given the guy such good luck and unlike him, we clicked on the newest ad we found.
The next day, with a mechanic in tow, we headed out to a stranger’s house to check out a twenty-year-old station wagon. The previous owners had tried to turn the car into racer but the mechanic was happy with the state of the engine. That day we drove home in a ride in serious need of unpimping and lots of expensive TLC but we were hopeful — so Handsome Hubby named the car Hope.
The next few years were rough. Many times I had to be towed home — twice from the maternity hospital after check-ups — while the station wagon clung to life. Just before I gave birth to Wheaty, Hope gave up hope.
I took a taxi to the maternity hospital on the day I was due to give birth and I don’t even remember how we got home with a newborn Wheaty but we did. By God’s providence we always got by.
Then the pandemic happened and all hope to get Hope back on the road was lost. There was no way we could get the car going again with the financial challenges that the pandemic brought, so we sold Hope in her broken state.
The little extra money that Hope’s sale brought in, helped us to survive the pandemic, so God had provided again. It was also through the pandemic that God provided another car.
Family friends, a German missionary family of 12, returned to Germany in a hurry shortly after lockdown. They were among several other missionaries who were flown home by their countries’ embassies in the interests of their health and safety.
The departure was sudden and they left everything behind, assuming that they would be back again shortly but months passed and eventually they realised that their return was indefinite so they called their friends in South Africa and tasked them with giving away everything that could not be shipped home — including their 9-seater vehicle.
Handsome Hubby was so overcome with emotion when he got the call from Germany that day that he stood and stared into space for several minutes before he could tell me what it had been about. We had just sold Hope, literally only a few days before that, never thinking that God’s providence would be in such abundance and just around the corner.
So, when people ask me how do I cope and I reply, “God provides”, our experience has shown that it really is true.
PS: As for the hair question, I will be answering that … but not today.
Here for some comic relief is another large family’s humorous response to rude questions:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ISsolVujZI4
Next up: Appliances that surprised
Previous columns:
The quirks and conundrums of living with a large family
Figuratively speaking – finding humour in the loss of my physique
