Pink Street, day five.

Hello. I have a moment here, where the house is quiet, and the computer is beckoning me. That hasn't been the case much, for the past few days. I've been doing all sorts of wild and crazy things, instead.

Like reading. And sitting and staring at the ocean. And taking walks.

But...
I don't want to give you the impression that it's all peace and relaxation. There are six kids here with us, after all.

Listen, I do love it here, and I do love the enthusiasm and joy that the girls bring to being on vacation. And,mostly, I love that something about this house, and the air here, and the water all around us, conspire to make the things that drive me nuts at home easily tolerable.

But...
I'm still doing four loads of (sandy) laundry a day. I'm still patrolling the kitchen like an armed sentry-particularly since one little marauder could take out a key ingredient for a meal, and the closest place for suitable provisions is a forty minute drive away. The kids still quarrel- although to be fair, not very much.

So, why, then, do I feel different here? I feel like I have more space: space around me and space in my head.

There is that fact that the big girls have a whole house to themselves: a barn-like structure attached to the house by a breezeway, with a sleeping loft and couches and music and games. Anna's in the "dorm" room in the house with us. Next week, when we're down to just three girls, the other two will move in with her. I'd feel funny having just two of them all the way out in the studio.

Like everything else in our family, it's a numbers thing. Six is a lot.

There, I said it. It's a lot.

It's a lot of people to keep track of, and to keep happy. It's a lot of personalities to accommodate and a lot of bodies to clean up after. It's a lot of food.

Please understand, I'm not looking for sympathy, and I'm not even complaining. I just want you to know that no matter how many pretty pictures I post, or in how many ways we are the luckiest family on earth, it's a lot.

And maybe the first person who needs to recognize that, and give me a bit of a break, is me.

Being here all together-and we've "made it" to day five beautifully-has made me appreciate both sides of things perhaps more than I have been lately, in the thick of "real life" back home.

Things are wonderful, and things are hard. That's just life. And that's more than fine.

And now, I have to go. Anna just dropped a bucket of beads all over the floor, and I can hear the marauders girls coming back from the dock in search of lunch.

I can hear them coming down Pink Street, and they are laughing.

More tomorrow. Thanks for reading.
tt