We are that family

A few months back I noticed that someone I knew was expecting again. As she walked past me in the sanctuary at church I struggled to remember...what is this...baby number four...five? All of the sudden it dawned on me that I AM THAT WOMAN.

Davis, party of seven, is preparing. We are now that family with the really big SUV that needs to park in the back of the parking lot so as to not crash into any other cars when we open the doors and all pile out. We once waited five minutes for a motorcycle to leave a parking spot in the movie theater, only to learn that our new car didn't actually fit in the spot because some other family with a really big SUV was over their line and we stuck too far out into the road.

We have a high-tech whiffle ball dangling from the ceiling to help us park the Suburban so that we don't crash into the garage shelves when we pull into our house.

 

Last summer when we were hosting and went to Chick-fil-A, we must have looked like a bunch of clowns crawling out of the minivan as someone commented "are all those YOURS?" I couldn't think of a good response at the time, but as I've perused adoption boards on Pinterest, I've come to like these come-backs: