7 years, 44 days and 1 hour

Don't be surprised if you see me on the eleven o'clock news:

Oceangypsymom literally jumped off a cliff today when she realized that she had 7 years, 44 days and 1 hour left to go before her children moved out! She was seen wandering the neighborhood mumbling, "how many times have I picked up these socks?" Friends and neighbors feigned surprise, but they had been privy to the routinely unkempt oceangypsy house. According to their reports, mountains of laundry, crusted dishware, and a yard full of bicycles or skate boards was the norm. When questioned by authorities, her hubby, revealed that she frequently fantasized about a clean house in which she could relax and breathe deep. No amount of Yankee candles, Downey softener or Merlot seemed to make a difference.

The perpetrators (otherwise known as the children) of the messiness proclaim that they are innocent of all charges "wasn't me." They have no known memory of repeated pleadings, to pick up clothing off of bathroom floors, to turn off lights when leaving rooms or to feed the dogs. This reporter was surprised at the lack of empathy the perpetrators had towards their mother's plight. They were instead more concerned with their Rock Band, Runescape and Facebook status.

The final straw appeared to be a half eaten meal that was prepared "just the way they liked it last week." Apparently, the rendering of the meal was met with a pitiful amount of gratitude and swiftly set aside for the dogs to eat. Unable to force herself to clean the dishes just one more time, the Oceangypsymom penned a quick note to her hubby. Remember me as I was once. Remember the woman you fell in love with. With that she took off in the neighbors Mustang convertible and never looked back. Onlookers, report her last words were... 7 years.... 44 days... and 1 more hour...

Where did all these kids come from?

I know for certain that I only birthed three, not all at once, thank you. Yet, somehow, more and more of them keep showing up. They wander in and out, in and out and in and out again. If you follow the trail of dishes and empty pop cans, you know exactly where they've been. My phone rings constantly! I don't even answer it anymore, I simply let it go to voice mail.

One of these extras has actually taken to calling me "mom." Several have spent the night so many times that I don't even bother to make sure that they have pillows and blankets. (They should know where they are by now.) It's not unusual to find extra clothing in the laundry. Clothes that I am positive look familiar, but don't actually belong to anyone in this household. I find this particularly insulting as my laundry mountain is tall enough. I don't need any help in this department.

But, the latest and somewhat disturbing trend, is that I am actually losing sleep over other people's children. Awhile back, I mentioned to my hubby that I would like to adopt another child. He wasn't thrilled. He hasn't said no, but he hasn't said yes either. He really hasn't said much of anything. And, now, I'm beginning to think that my life is being filled with all these teenagers that need a surrogate mom for a reason. There are a lot of them and their problems are real. They make me thankful that my own kids are late bloomers.

I'm trying to wrap my brain around it. I'm trying to wrap my heart around it. If I give up the dream of enlarging my family, will that hole somehow be filled? Can it really be the same? Is influence given in bits and pieces the same as raising a child completely?