It’s survival of the fittest when 3 little men come out to play

I THINK my kids have too many extramural activities. And, of course, they are all at different times and different venues. Actually, I’ve also noticed that I have too many kids.

Three boys. Friends and strangers comment that I would have had an easier time had they all been girls. I truly hope that my girls would have been as wild and messy as my little men.

Girls sit quietly and draw pretty pictures, I’m told. Boys are mad. They destroy every corner of structure and order. Games mixed with DVDs. Duplo, Lego, super hereos, those horrid teeny pieces of junk in Kinder eggs.

It took me six days to sort out puzzle pieces, garbled together over years and preserved in plastic containers and packets, in the hope that, one day, they would be reunited to form the picture.

That said, the satisfaction is huge when a puzzle comes together again. Not as much satisfaction, perhaps, as an all-expenses-paid trip to Hawaii. But not bad on the scale of domestic tolerance – never bliss. Two children (and puzzles) would have been perfectly adequate.

The DVD store manager quipped that my kids were unusually well behaved (ouch!). They always tear around the aisles playing on-on (our olden day catchers), reaching noise levels that are probably dangerous within a 500m radius. One was at an extramural. When there are two (the combination doesn’t seem to be significant) they are kind and friendly to each other. Accommodating age and skill to be equal but different. The youngest gets three lives, the oldest one.

In my twenties (about 200 years ago) I had an epiphany once about the pattern of interaction between people. The relationship between two is linear and binary. Once the pattern allows three, a triangle is formed, introducing an open space where more ideas can be generated. And more conflict, lost thoughts and taking sides.

Worse would be having only one kid. That means you’re it. You are the main attraction. Never a moment to sneak off to read a book, or, may sanity prevail, do housework. You are the entertainment. The generator of what-to-do-next.

How is it to manage five – like my mother did moving from country to country and having two along the way?

My husband is one of 12. How do you remember their names or find the time to do individual homework?

I have a friend who has seven of her own and has recently adopted another two toddlers. Okay. She’s obviously not single, and her hubby drives a porche and earns quite a penny. But still?

Judo, music (drumming or jamming), cricket, soccer, hockey, a wonderful kids science teaching programme called Experi-Buddies, playball, tumbling stars, cross-country, tennis, cubs.

Each activity takes them out for an hour – add those up and you can have more than one cup of tea (coffee rather, thank you) between the crazy dashes to get them there on time. But cubs are at the top of the list. Boys, and girls (viva progress!), learn to “do their best and help others” while learning basic bush survival skills. Oldfashioned fun without the technology. Earning badges for skills developed, like swimming, how to care for pets, birding, boating, braaiing, (I must speak to Akela about the braaiing meat badge – we are vegetarian)… the list is long.

Every week has a theme and is packed with energy-ridden games. They come home exhausted and fulfilled. Heads packed with good ideas and bodies aching from physical exertion. I can’t wait until they are old enough to go on weekend camps.

At least for them, survival is a game. Unlike their cousins in Philippi where survival is a way of life.