From Number Twelve

Some say a bakers dozen

Is far more than enough

There isn’t room for all of them

Let alone, all their stuff.

But two big hearted people

With love enough to spare

Took the world’s opinions

And tossed them in the air.

A widow from Alaska

Toting daughter, babe, and son

Met widower from Utah

And knew widow days were done.

To hers they added his son

And his three daughters too

Then within not many years

Four more sons joined the crew.

Eleven children, Holy Cow!

How did they do it all?

How did they keep them clothed and fed?

“Enough!” the world would call.

Now, here’s where the world’s opinion,

The pressures and the stress,

Could have changed it all for me

As it could for all the rest.

You see, I’m baby number twelve,

The second last in line,

So grateful that within their hearts

Some extra love did shine.

Two more girls they welcomed,

Me, and Baby Sis,

Into their house of Mayhem

To grow with all the rest.

So, was our household perfect?

Did they give us everything?

Well, they taught us how to work and share,

To love and laugh and sing.

Most times our clothes were hand-me-downs

That Mom had patched or sewn

And our meat and fruit and vegetables

Often raised and cooked at home.

Were their parenting skills perfected

To match this motley crew?

Or maybe we should ask ourselves,

How did they make it through?

Okay, it wasn’t perfect. 

We had our share of fights

And Mother cried herself to sleep

On far too many nights.

But what should they do different,

If it could be done again?

Would life have been much better

With only eight or nine or ten?

With all my heart I thank them

For the choices that they made,

For the brothers and the sisters

To each of us they gave.

Each one of us so different

Unique in every way,

Short and tall, blonde, brunette

Eyes brown, blue, greenish gray.

We have one sis who beat us all

In the race to earn her wings

And thoughts of her help us recall

How short lived are worldly things.

Could we really spare another?

Would our lives still be as rich,

If for a life of ease and wealth

Mom or Dad had bailed this ship?

The greatest gifts they’ve given us,

Besides our faith in God,

Are brothers, sisters, every one,

The evens and the odds J.

Sister, Number One,

And brother, Number Two

Your leadership has taught us much

And helped us muddle through.

Number Three we miss you.

Number Four, big teddy bear,

So close in age and kindness

To Five’s graceful, loving care.

Six, is oh-so stubborn

But also soft in heart,

Not unlike Seven’s acts of love

And hand sewn works of art.

Brother, Number Eight,

His size deceives a few

Cause underneath there lies a heart

That’s gold and strong and true.

Our other brother in the line,

Nine’s known for artful pen

He shares appreciation for

The music played by Ten.

Eleven, tall and thoughtful,

Is witty, there’s no doubt.

Skip over me to Thirteen

Whom we couldn’t live without.

So, really when all’s said and done

Is thirteen still too much?

**As Dad says, “Too much talking.

Sit down and eat your lunch.”

**With all our strengths and weakness

    It’s just the perfect bunch.

                (alternate ending)

                         ~by Kathryn May Chapman