I’ve been reading a few blogs for quite some time that routinely discuss families, their own families. The ones that are the most interesting have to do with lots, and lots, and sometimes lots of kids. If you ever run out of material when you have a big family I imagine you aren’t paying attention. I never seen to have a lot to say about my kids because they’re only two of them. Which works because I only have two spots in the backseat of the car, and two spots at the dining table for dinner.
Two is our magic number.
But I wonder what it would be like if I came from a big family. My dad has three brothers, my mother in law comes from a family of six children. I have one sister.
There’s this tv show I love, that went off the air in 2011, Brothers & Sisters. I’ve been watching episodes on dvd lately. I watch them fight, and talk, and laugh, and they tend to drink wine a lot, but the main theme of the show is that they are there for each other, all five siblings. Growing up in a big family must certainly have it’s ups and downs, but I have to think the noise and probable chaos would also be fun.
The more siblings you have the more people that have your back, invite you over for dinner, and to tell your secrets to. In essence it sounds wonderful. I wish that I had a big family of siblings, and most of the time, wish I had more than two kids. It’s become somewhat of a fascination imagining what the fictional Walker household would be like. It’s the idealic version of life.
I also love the show Parenthood, which we recently discovered and are catching up on via Amazon Instant Video (I think we are finally in season 3, maybe…). Here is another large family of 4 siblings, who deal with issues I can relate to. (Aspergers anyone?) They are a more messed up version of the Walkers, a more middle class version of life. But still the same big family, lots of kids, and as always lots of drama, hugs, laughter and secrets.
I’m not sure if I idolize the idea of a big family because I come from a small one, or there’s just something in me that thinks a loud, crazy, dinner table seems like perfection. It’s impossible to say.
What’s your idea of perfection? Do you come from a big family or a small one? Do you wish it had been different?