Privacy

This is a word that has come up repetedly in our house over the past few days. Particulary because, well...there isn't much of it. Not for the kids and not for us. With ten kids, two parents and four bedrooms, no one gets their own room. When the kids complain about this (which is pretty rare) I remind them that I don't have my own room either, I share with their Dad (and for now, Baby Mia). In fact, I don't even have my own bed! The kids each share with two other siblings. We are fortunate that the rooms are fairly spacious and so there is enough room that everyone should be comfortable. Still, those looking for a quiet retreat away from others, a place to be alone and uninterrupted had probably better take a walk outside somewhere, because they aren't likely to find solitude in their bedroom.
And neither are we. In fact, lately its been a struggle to find um, couple time at all. Intimate couple time. Okay, so frankly I'm talking about sex. Our bedroom seems to be constantly invaded. By toddler and teenagers alike. The door locks, but we have those easy-peasy-to-pick locks, which some kids have learned to pick with just their thumbnail. Even some of the littelist kids (read: Sydney) can pick the lock that way and do so in one seemless move, so that there isn't even much warning. The knob just sort of twists and opens. Hello!
No matter where we are in the house, children are in close proximity. Even when we are in our room, usually children are right outside playing in thier loft or rooms. Whenever we start to think about having "time togther" we have to weigh the odds of anyone realizing they need something, or want something or maybe just want to tattle on a sibling and barging through the door. Walking in on your parents must be a pretty horrific thing and being walked in on by your children is equally disturbing. And we have been walked in on a few times and almost walked in on countless others. Recently we were alone in our room and heard a kid attempt to walk in. Immediatley Albert asked who was there. It was Drew. Albert then told him to go downstairs and not try to walk in when the door is locked agian and to try to remember to KNOCK FIRST. Drew let out a disgusted groan and commented that we were "nasty" and then went on his way downstairs. Well, that sort of ruins the moment. I'm really getting sick of having to hide in closets, bathrooms or worse yet, park in some seculded area late at night. I can only imagine being rolled up on by a police cruiser. Heck no officer, we aren't teenagers parking...we're the parents of ten kids who can't find a decent place in our house to have sex without being walked in on, so here we are, parked outside, by the woods (way, way outside...where no one can see). Yikes, that would be a nightmare. I suppose we could just be glad for the interruptions and lack of privacy and call it birth control. After all, this is the longest I've gone without getting pregnant in a very long while. In years, in fact. Maybe one day, years down the road, we'll have the house to ourselves and all our children will have moved away and started thier own families (can you imagine? I can't!). Until then, I guess it's bathrooms, closets and the occassional late night drive...