In case you didn’t figure it out from the link in my previous post, here’s my little (currently “about the size of a peanut”) surprise: Yep, I’m pregnant. Pretty soon we’ll be thinking in odd numbers again: Five kids. Seven family members. Three carseats in the Caravan. Etc.

It’ll be my first-ever spring baby (my kids currently have September, October, November and December birthdays), the first time I’ll be pregnant on Christmas or New Year’s, and so far (crossing my fingers–I’m 11 weeks) the first time I’ve made it all the way through the first trimester without throwing up.

It feels funny to announce this since as late as May we were still waffling on whether or not we wanted more kids at all. Though my life is full with four, I enjoyed adding the fourth to our family so much that it really opened me to the possibility of more. I love the noise, the chaos and the bustling feeling of a house full of kids. And when it came down to it, my two most sticky reasons for not having another were: 1) I didn’t feel like being pregnant/giving birth again and 2) As it stood, my last child would be 18 when I was 46. That felt so young and I really clung to that number in my mind as some kind of trophy. But while I think those are generally both very valid reasons to stop, for me, they just weren’t compelling enough (after all, pregnancy is over in a blink — heck, I’m almost 1/3 of the way through already and I’m still adjusting to the idea! — and labor/birth, if you’re me, is just a few hours, and relatively easy hours at that. And 49 isn’t that much older than 46, anyway.)

Once we made up our minds to give it another go, we figured the faster the better, since neither of us are getting any younger, and I like having kids relatively close together (didn’t want to have to have a sixth just to give #5 his/her own buddy) And wouldn’t you know it…I’m just as crazy-fertile as I was four years ago.

I’m just barely showing (to me, anyway–others swear that you could never tell unless you already knew) and am bracing myself for the onslaught of “What? FIVE? Are you NUTS?” But I had plenty of practice with #4, so I’ll be in a much better place to just laugh and let it slide off my back…and as much as I was dreading the preggo part, I’m quite enjoying being pregnant this time around. As with anything else, it seems experience makes pregnancy–and dealing with silly comments–that much easier. Now let’s just hope the same can be said for the fifth birth, too.

Mama Speaks is giving away a copy of Table for Eight. There’s a little about the book and an interview with me (containing a little surprise!) in Stephanie’s post.

Head over, and enter to win!

This week I’ve stumbled across a few different conversations about raising large families–two of them in relation to Katie Allison Granju’s Babble.com essay about why she wants a big family (both at Babble and also in the comments section on her blog post about it), and one in a discussion about the Ionce family with 18 children over at the Womb Within blog.

Now, as somebody who’s written a book on raising larger families, you might think I just love debating the topic. But I often regret getting involved in these conversations, where the assumption often seems to be that large families automatically become a drain on the system and (of course) that parents of many and their children are miserable, attention-starved people. Inevitably, somewhere along the line, somebody makes an assumption like this based on: a family they once knew. A TV show they watched a few times. The complaints they heard from an adult who grew up in a big family. Their income taxes, which they feel are too high and imagine are all the fault of poor, uneducated people having too many babies.

Now, I don’t mind anyone’s having or expressing an opinion–I’ve got plenty of them, and I don’t always have solid research to back them up–but what always amuses and amazes me is how vehemently some people will argue against something that they themselves have no direct experience with.

The only real fact-driven, legitimate arguments I’ve seen coming out of these debates center around environmental issues. I don’t agree that the small number of American families who choose to have bigger families is a threat (fertility levels in the US hover right around replacement rates; we really do have enough resources for everyone if our culture–big and small families alike–would take some steps to quit wasting them; overpopulation in other countries has little to do with how many children Americans have; and wait a sec, how come I never see anyone criticizing dog breeders?), but even though I don’t agree, I can still understand the argument. What I can’t understand is passionate, disgust-ridden arguments (I especially love when they use words like “litter!”) against what life must be like in a big family. Unless you’ve experienced it–and not just in your own family, but a few others, too, for comparison–how can you know what it’s like?

I don’t want 14 or 16 or 18 kids. But it only takes a little imagination to see that a home with 14 or 16 or 18 kids could very well be a happy one. It may not look like MY house or YOUR house or the typical American household, but holy canoli, whoever said we typical American parents are getting it right, anyway?

I could rail against having huge families, but what do I have to base it on? A half-hour TLC special? And even if you think the Duggar family is “creepy”, a word I’ve heard thrown about quite a bit in relation to them, how does that apply to other big families? What about all the miserable people in smaller familes…for instance, the Hogan family isn’t doing so hot; does that mean nobody should have two kids? And I know a lot of people who have complaints about their families: they didn’t get along with their siblings, felt they had too much responsibility, felt they didn’t have enough. What does it prove, except for whatever reason, the dynamics in their particular family led to an unhappy childhood?

I have experience with raising a family of four kids. My family of four kids, not anyone else’s. But I spoke to dozens and dozens of parents and kids with between four and eleven children while writing my book. Yes, a few of the interviews made me cringe, and had I had a bias against big families, I guess I could have filed them away as ammo. But the vast majority of the responses came from what seemed like loving, attentive, responsible parents in functional and happy homes. I bet I’d get a similar ratio if I surveyed a group of smaller families, too.

As for what it’s like to grow up in a family of 18 kids? I imagine it could be awful. I imagine it could be wonderful. Just like growing up with no siblings, or one, or two, there are a lot of factors at play that shape a family’s life. Truly, though? I don’t know. And unless you are one of a very, very small number of people who’ve experienced living in a very large family firsthand? Neither do you.

This month at largerfamilies.com, we’re talking about FOOD. Budgeting, menu planning, meals that can be doubled or tripled and frozen, once-a-month cooking, stocking the pantry…and so on, and so forth. Head on over and find out how you can win a free copy of my book!

My extended family-parents, siblings, their spouses and kids-gets together about twice a year. Not enough for my liking, but since we’re spread across four states and our numbers have grown to include 14 children and nine adults, gathering us in one place now requires a plethora of pillows and blankets, a couple of refrigerators full of food and enough space to give us all at least some floor to curl up on at night. It takes planning, budgeting, and the ability to put aside any semblance of privacy for a few days while we all converge on somebody else’s house.

The last time most of us got together, last summer, our three-day vacation started out great but turned sour in the 25th hour, when one of the kids began complaining of nausea. By that evening, 75 percent of us were laid out with a nasty stomach bug, and the 7-Up and Pepto Bismol flowed like wine.

My oldest brother and I were the last holdouts. We spoke at around 10 p.m. on Night Two, each reporting that we thought we’d made it past the danger. Forty-five minutes later, I was lying face-down on the carpet next to the bathroom, trying to keep the contents of my stomach in through sheer force of will.

As it turns out, my will is not that strong.

The two-night vacation stretched out into three days and beyond. People were simply too sick to drive home. By the time the last person left my Aunt Paula’s house, we were all weak, tired, considerably thinner … and sure we’d never be invited back.

So it seemed particularly unfair that our very next get-together was also tainted by a whopper of a stomach bug. This year we were hosting, and the weekend leading up to New Year’s Eve, the entire family - plus a friend or two - descended upon our house. One night we were all sitting around stuffing our faces with leftover Christmas cookies and playing “Rock Band”. Twelve hours later, the first victim ran for the bathroom. Twenty-four hours later, we were dropping like flies.

The washer and dryer ran all weekend as we sent out the still-standing troops for 7-Up and Gatorade. I ran around obsessively wiping down toilet seats, doorknobs and faucet handles with bleach, but still spent two bleary-eyed nights getting up with sick children.

As the little ones ran around - even stomach viruses can’t dampen the fun of a house full of kids - we adults sat around on the couch looking weary. Though clean towels and sheets were in short supply, drama was not: I rang in New Year’s Eve hovering over my youngest with a bucket while paramedics wheeled my 11-year-old niece off to the ER for a breathing treatment (asthma attack, not stomach bug).

The family’s been gone for a few days now, but we’re still sitting on pins and needles. We’ve heard from others who’ve suffered from it that this is one of those bugs that can show up and punch you in the gut a week or two after exposure. In our little family, only three have gone down so far; but it could knock the rest of us out at any minute. If and when it does, will I regret inviting the whole crew and their germs to my house?

Nah. After all, that’s how it goes in a big family. One minute everyone is eating, laughing, and making merry; the next you’re all puking, crying, and begging for mercy. If we avoided each other every time there was a virus going around, we’d probably never see each other at all.

In the safety of our own homes, we might miss out on a night spent hovering over the toilet, but we’d miss the good times, too. Like making immature jokes about the body’s digestive functions at one another’s expense. Isn’t that what families and holidays and togetherness are about?

I can only hope that when my boys have grown and have kids of their own that they have the same kind of fun with their brothers as we do - stomach bugs and all.

But just in case? Before the next get-together, I may invest in surgical masks and rubber gloves.

Here it is. Thanks, Lindsay!

I think it’s so funny that she got a kick out of the fact that I told her I read her blog…because when my publicist forwarded her request for an interview, I was all excited, saying “She’s, like, a blogging CELEBRITY!”

Maybe we all under-rate ourselves, yaknow?

UPDATE: Due to some trouble with comments being eaten, I’m re-opening this contest through 11:59 PM on Sunday, December 16, so you still have a chance.

When you think about it, making friends as a new mom is a lot like trying to pick up guys at the bar. (Not that I’d know anything about that.) (No, really, I was already married with a kid by the time I was old enough to go to the bar). You’ve got a limited amount of time to talk somebody up, figure out what they’re like, and gauge their interest in you before “closing time” (or, in the case of the child at the playground, meltdown time or poopy diaper time or nap time or Dear-God-i’m-sick-of-pushing-this-swing time.) You don’t want to let that potential buddy slip away, possibly never to be seen again unless your future trips to the park happen to align; but it can be awkward to ask for her digits when you’ve just met her and aren’t sure how she feels about you. So how do you seal the deal?

Chime in here, readers: I want to hear your best, most clever or most effective mom-pick-up lines. Maybe instead of “So, what’s your sign?” it’s “So, what’s your sling?”. or “Hey there, good-looking” (Said to the baby, not the mom). Whether it’s something that’s actually worked for you or just a tongue-in-cheek play on a classic pick-up line, I want to hear it. Post as many as you’d like in the comments, with backstory if there is one, (be sure to leave contact info or a link back to your blog so I can reach you!) and I’ll pick a favorite. Winner gets a free copy of one of my books (your choice) plus some swag I picked up at the BlogHer conference over the summer and have been meaning to give away. Tell all your friends, and enter early and often!

At least that’s how other people seem to see it, according to a great column in the Nashville Scene by Linsday Ferrier, who’s also the brains behind the popular blog Suburban Turmoil. I’m quoted in the column–go check it out!

The suburban Chicago Courier News interviewed me for a recent article on how the recalls may be affecting toy purchases this year. Here is a bit of the article that quotes me:

Francis recommends not buying toys and giving alternative gifts instead. Additionally, she said parents can use the toy recall crisis as a way to reinforce the meaning of Christmas and curb the materialism of the season.

The mother of four — ages 10, 8, 4 and 2 — doesn’t buy a lot of toys anymore because she found her children played with toys for a couple of weeks then leave them alone, causing a mess in the house.

“We so rarely buy toys; the kids don’t even notice,” she said, adding that her children have Legos and train sets, just not Thomas the Tank Engine. “I would have thought Thomas would have been the safe toy, but I would have been wrong.”

Instead of toys, parents should consider giving gifts like sports or music lessons, museum memberships, sports equipment for the family to do together, board games or a family vacation, Francis said. Another option is purchasing gifts from local artists.

This year, parents concerned about toys can focus on the meaning of Christmas and cut back on gift-giving.

“It’s a shift in the entire mind-set of what the holidays are about and how much stuff do kids really need,” Francis said.