Too many kids?

Twice, today, when I told someone that I went to a Thanksgiving full of 40 of my friends and probably 1/3 of those were kids, the response was, "Wow. That's way too many kids." The first time was a middle-aged, single secretary. I laughed it off, even while I was slightly hurt, because those are my friends' kids - I would even say those kids are my friends. I love them all like they are nieces and nephews, and I can't imagine a holiday without them.

The second time was an associate at the client at The Deal, at the bar where we were all having drinks celebrating the closing of The Deal. (Yes, The Deal closed and I am so happy!) I responded with, "Well, two of them were mine, so that helps." He obviously had no idea that I had children and then asked a million questions, including the Big One: "How do you possibly juggle a demanding job with two small children?" (This is a question that on the one hand I appreciate because it recognizes the reality that This.Is.Hard - but on the other hand resent a little bit because he would never have asked it if I were a man...) He then went on to describe his Thanksgiving weekend, which involved an impromptu trip to Florida for the weekend, with "Because I don't have kids" thrown in.

I left feeling a little bit defeated, wondering how I can live in this BigLaw world with BigLaw clients and also be the wife and mother and PERSON I want to be. The interaction bothered me the whole commute home.

And then I came home to a sweet-smelling baby just out of the bath, snuggled her in the rocking chair and sang her a thousand songs, kissed her cheeks and made her giggle, got some sweet slobbery kisses, and laid her in her crib, happy and snug. And then I played Play-Doh with a very excited preschooler who decided to tell me all about her day while serving me green Play-Doh "beans" and trading colors with me every time I made something she liked. And then I gave that preschooler a bath, put her hair in rag curls, snuggled her while I massaged her hands, read her Amelia Bedelia (for the ten millionth time this month), had a long conversation about preschool while she sat on the potty, watched her tackle her Daddy, and snuggled her in her bed and sang HER a thousand songs and prayed with her about her curtains and her stuffed turtle (you know, the important things).

And all of that other stuff didn't matter. And I felt sorry for that secretary and that associate who don't know just how precious THIS stuff is.