1200 Kids and Counting

In a rare moment of silence and not-doing-a-damn-thing-around-the-house, I am sitting on the couch watching the Duggar family's television show. If you have been living under a rock, the Duggar family has 1200, um I mean NINETEEN, children. And since this is my own personal blog and pretty much everyone is fair game, I must address...

The Good.

I commend these folks more than I condemn them. I'm not so keen on the we're-going-to-keep-having-babies-until-God-wants-us-to-stop thing but to each his own, right? These people live completely debt free (before their television show started and they only had like SEVENTEEN kids) and they built their own house. A house, I might add, that has like 200 ovens, it's own laundromat, 600 beds and what appears to be approximately 500,00o windows. Hell, I have one child and I wanna live there. Maybe just NOT in the Ozarks. (No offense to anyone living in the Ozarks who may be reading this. Oxymoron? I digress.) And while I totally don't believe everything I see on television, the kids seem fairly well adjusted. I guess. They're kinda sheltered so I guess time will tell. I have noticed that their wardrobe has improved significantly since the start of their show, kudos to TLC for that. Another good thing? Your kids would never get lonely and have their hand up your butt constantly.

The Bad.

This actually calls for bullet points:

• Having the older kid assigned to the younger kid thing? Not cool. I'm all for families helping one another but damn, what a childhood that would be. If that's all you know, I guess you don't mind. I can only imagine what would have become of me had one sibling been in charge of me.
• The dad's name is Jim Bob. And he goes by Jim Bob. Nuff said.
• Eventually, you will run out of "J" names. As it is, spelling GINGER, JINGER is kind of a stretch. I see it and immediately think, "Jinger" as in jingle, not Ginger. And really, a whole lot of other folk I know would pronounce it the same. I sympathize because I have an unusual name. Good luck to her trying to find a little personalized license plate for her bike or a cool key chain from random tourist places.
• Your family car is a bus. Like a real bus. The kind you take tours on in Hawaii or something. Oh and vacations? Take the BIG ASS Greyhound looking beast. At least they have options, I suppose.
• Bathing suits for the girls. Don't get me wrong, I am not a big fan of girls walking around in thong bikinis or anything but they might as well swim fully clothed. And we all know that swimming fully clothed is only fun and acceptable if you are a little bit drunk. Or a lot drunk.
• You can only eat so many ground beef or hash brown recipes.

The Ugly.

This poor woman's lady parts. Being pregnant for like ten years? That's not my idea of a party at all. While I've given birth once, and want to do it again, 19 times? Eh, no thanks.