Bring Back Big Families

(This one hits a little differently than some of my other posts. Fair warning.)

Life as a dad of six is a whirlwind of chaos, messes, and noise, but it’s also overflowing with love. Lately, I’ve been grappling with the idea and possibility of some really big changes: my wife’s seriously chasing a new job, one that would be far less stressful than her current one and hopefully give her the flexibility to pursue homeschooling the kids, which could lead to us moving to a slightly bigger house, which comes with the incredibly overwhelming thought of leaving this house, the house we’ve made our home for nine years. My mind’s currently spinning faster than a kid’s fidget spinner.

My wife’s potential new job feels like a big leap. It would mean growth, new opportunities, less stress, and a brighter future for our family. But it’s not just about her; it’s about all of us, six kids, her, me, each with our own routines, friends, and little worlds. A new job might mean a new house, and that’s where the weight starts to hit hardest. Moving six kids? That’s not just logistics; it’s a full-blown saga.

Imagine the packing alone, the endless boxes of Legos, toys, stuffed animals that seem to breed in the night, books (oh, the books!!!), and every manner of sports gear that could fill a room by itself (and don’t even get me started on the blankets!). Every corner of this house holds a piece of our story, and just the thought of sorting through it feels like dismantling a scrapbook of our lives.

Then there’s the house itself. Nine years ago, we walked through the door with five fewer kids and big dreams. This place has seen it all, first steps, birthday parties, movie nights, broken lights and doors, baseball games a million, countless shows and concerts, dance recitals, homeschooling during Covid, too many meals to count cooked and shared, and on and on. The walls bear scars from tape and tacks, the backyard’s a canvas of swing sets and trampolines and trampled grass, our cul-de-sac circled millions of times on bikes and scooters, and every room inside hums with memories. Letting go of this home feels like letting go of a piece of us. It’s not just a house anymore; it’s where my kids became who they are, where we’ve all laughed, cried, and grown together.

Change is daunting, but it’s also a chance to build something new. Maybe a new house could become a home too, with fresh memories waiting to take root. Still, as I sit here, surrounded by the chaos and joy of our life, I feel anchored to this place. The kids are (almost) asleep (for now), and I’m left wondering: how do you pack up a home and carry it forward? Maybe you don’t. Maybe you just take the love and chaos with you, trusting that the next chapter will feel like home someday too. Because, as cliché as it sounds, our house isn’t just our house anymore; it’s truly our home. And home is so much more than just a house.

For now, I’m just a dad, staring down some big potential changes, hoping I’ve got the strength to support my wife and carry our six kids (and all their stuff) into whatever comes next.