Five children? Wow.
Really? Why?????
Just a few of the
responses I have received from people when they find out how many little ones we
maintain in the Hurley brood.
I come from a
two-child home, just me and my younger sister, Lauren. I remember always wanting more
siblings and begging my mother to “just ask God to send us another one” (Ahh... yes,
just ask God. If only!).
My husband, the
fabulous Jimmy Hurley, grew up in a large family with three older sisters and one younger.
We started dating in high school, and I loved going to his house because of the
“bigger family” dynamic. There was always something going on, lots of chatter
and lots of laughter; it was a very comfortable chaos to me.
So, years later,
when I told Jimmy Hurley we were getting married, first thing on my agenda was to
start this “big” fun family.
Three years later, our daughter Colleen was born. A
couple years after that, our
daughter Elizabeth was born; a year later, our daughter Ryan
was born.
Ryan was a very
diffi cult baby, whiney, colicky. My comfortable chaos had turned into mayhem. My days were
long, nights were longer. I would walk the fl oors with her at night, praying,
out loud, promising
God anything (I
will go to Mass every Sunday, maybe twice every Sunday. I will serve the homeless
at the local soup kitchen.I will start tithing…ya, right), I constantly obsessed
about my escape. Jimmy Hurley announced that this was it for him: no more babies.
I was definitely in agreement with this decision until it dawned on me that the
only time I had ever actually gotten out of the house in the previous fi ve years
was when I was at the South Shore Hospital delivering another “heir to the
Hurley fortune.” Panic set in fairly quickly. I had to do something.
Did I sound
desperate? Of course I was.
Do I care? Absolutely not. Everyone has their reasons for
having children. I knew at the end of that nine months was at least three insurance-covered
days in a hospital bed, by myself, with (wait for it, folks).... legally dispensed pain
medication. Ahh, my bliss! There, I said it out loud.
I had my work cut
out for me. So, after a very unromantic interlude, involving a six pack of Natural
Light, a big bucket of take-out chicken and a couple of scratch tickets (poor Jimmy
Hurley...it’s the little things.), we were informed that another little Hurley was on its
way!!
Poor Jimmy was
beside himself; although, come to think of it, I don’t know why he had to worry. He never
“heard” any of the babies cry at night. I always found that so hard to believe;
this was the same man who could hear me removing his American Express card
from his wallet left on the kitchen counter while he was upstairs showering.
Amazing.
As Number Four’s
delivery date got closer, I packed my “hospital bag.” For my fi rst delivery, my
bag contained things like a stopwatch, a soothing buckwheat neck pillow, satin
nighties with matching robes and slippers, my dog-eared copy of “What to Expect when
Expecting” and a very bad Yanni CD. My fourth “hospital bag” contained six months
worth of Star magazine, a 5-pound tub of Mike and Ike’s, three pairs of
Walmart sweats (size large), a sleeping mask with the words “do not disturb” embroidered
across them and two four-packs of Red Bull.
Joseph James Hurley
arrived soon after, healthy and beautiful, and my mini vacation was all that and
more. Aahhh! Two years later, after a not-so successful vasectomy (on Jimmy
Hurley), we were blessed with baby number fi ve: Brendan John Hurley.
On my last night of
this unexpected vacation, my doctor came in to set up my discharge for the next
morning. I called Jimmy Hurley and told him I was being sprung the next morning
and that the doctor had been in to tell me that this was my last visit to the
delivery rodeo, that I had been “shut off,” a very medical term meaning “no more
babies for you.” My poor body had had enough. I made a point to remind my
wonderful husband that this last night was my last night of peace before returning to
real life, ( or, considering we are now going to have four babies in diapers, let’s
call it prison). If he was going to trek up to visit us, I begged him, ”Please come alone.
Just a quiet visit.” Always a good listener, he brought all the kids with him. I
always tell people, I think my most proud moment was the fact that two of the poor
little things were still wearing the same jammies they had been in two days before
when I went into labor.
The kids were very
excited and hyper due to an almost 72-hour diet of Pop Tarts, Chef Boyardee and
Twizzlers. After an hour of this forced family fun, I gently let Jimmy know it was
time to go. As we were bundling the children up, I couldn’t help but notice that my
very thoughtful better half had been holding a blue plastic Walmart bag. I
thought, “Ooooh, something fancy from the Walmart in appreciation for all my
hard work.”
Now brace yourself
folks; this is a true story. I have heard that the nurses on my fl oor that night still
talk about it to this very day. I said “Hey, wait!! What do ya got in that bag big fella?”
“Oh, yeah…I almost
forgot!!” He shook the contents of the bag onto the bed and said, “I thought this
would be a good time to go over the bills….”
Enough said.
