The foreigner.

In Taiwan, particularly in the more rural areas, the people have a habit of calling out "Foreigner!" upon seeing a non-Asian. About a year into my missionary experience there, I became so accustomed to eating the food and speaking the language that it was as if I had become one of them. When someone would shout out "Foreigner!" I no longer acknowledged their reference to me, but wondered who the heck they were talking about.
The same has happened in motherhood. There are times that I still feel conspicuous and slightly embarrassed by the size of the clan that I cart around daily. But mostly I've grown used to it, as if my children are simply extra appendages without whom I would feel strangely empty.
Yesterday when I went to the grocery store, I ran into a friend and her kids who greeted us with smiles (and a few offers of help) as we repeatedly saw them throughout the store. Then, as we were checking out my friend smiled knowingly and complimented my little helpers (who were busily loading our groceries onto the conveyor belt, tripping over each other as they went). Her years of having many little ones under foot have advanced into the preteen and teenage years but it was funny to see her giggle a bit at the sight of me and my brood. I was just doing what I do every day. I forget that not everyone has to shout out orders to the oldest, seat the next two in the "car" attached to the front of the cart, and carry the infant in her Baby Bjorn. Not everyone stops at the bakery for a free cookie? Shocking. Your kids have grown too mature to bother grabbing at the displays at the end of the aisles sending a bunch of merchandise tumbling to the floor? Lucky you. You mean, you can make it through the checkout without having to shout "put that back" a thousand times?
It's just a part of the routine. I've been walking this walk long enough that I rarely notice how much I stick out like a sore thumb. I'm sure that when my children have grown a few years, I'll see someone in my former position and smile at the memory of having my hands so full. And I'll send my children out to load her groceries in the car, just to lighten the load a bit.

(Thanks Tracy, although I'm pretty used to trying to do it all, your kids were so sweet to serve me.)