Childhood Chaos

I am the oldest of seven children, the oldest six of whom are all boys. My younger siblings are, in order from oldest to youngest (approximately how may years younger they are than me in parentheses): Scott (2), Alan (4), Carl (6), Kevin (who now goes by Glen, 9), Brent (11), and McKell (15).

My childhood memories probably revolve more around my siblings from Carl up, so apologies in advance to my younger siblings. The four oldest siblings often joke about how the house we grew up in was very different from the house the three youngest siblings grew up in. Although in our case, it was physically the same house.

As can be imagined, ours was a house full of activity, or chaos, if you will. Some examples:

The Van

Not too long after we moved to Grantsville, my parents purchased a Super Wagon. I don't know that that was actually what it was called, but it was a super long van. My recollection is that it seated eight, but then still had room for a queen-sized mattress in the back. I don't know where the mattress came from, but my parents did put a mattress in the back, which was nice because we could lie down back there and sleep on longer trips. But just as often, I remember us wrestling back there while my dad was driving down the freeway.

Just a couple of days after purchasing this van, we went to see my Uncle Robert and his family in Kaysville (Robert is the third oldest of the ten children in my dad's family, my dad is the 5th oldest). Before we moved to Grantsville, we had lived in the same neighborhood as Uncle Robert so we were excited to visit them. My dad parked the van in the driveway and my mom and dad went inside to visit while my brothers and a couple of my cousins stayed outside to play in the new van. I guess we were excited about the new van, but it seems funny now that we were that excited about it that we were out there playing in it. All the doors open, climbing in and out, just having a great time, until at some point Alan climbed into the drivers seat and shifted the van into neutral. The car began to roll backwards down the driveway with five or six kids in and around it, continued rolling across the cul-de-sac, and smashed into the side a neighbor's recently-purchased sedan. By some miracle, none of the kids were hurt. Carl, who was the youngest, was allegedly in the back of the van and rolling toward the open rear doors when my cousin Stephen, who is my age, grabbed him and set him on the seat.

I don't know that I was too fazed by the whole experience at the time, but looking back, I sure feel bad for my parents. A smashed up new vehicle, smashing up my uncle's neighbor's new car.

But fast-forward a year or two. We are still driving the same van, which has since been repaired. We went up to eat at the Pizza Hut in Tooele and as the meal wound down, a few kids finished eating before the rest of the family and again went out to the van. This time, it was Carl who shifted into neutral, but the result was extremely similar. Fortunately, this time, rather than smashing into another vehicle, the van slammed into the wall of the Pizza Hut. The damage to the building was minimal, but the rear doors of the van were smashed up the same way they had been before.

I have to think that my family alone is why you now have to have the key in order to shift the vehicle out of park.

Babysitters

We had a number of babysitters when we were young. Some of the names I can think of...Lori and Teresa Proctor, Vicky Young, Karen Orgill, Monica Allen, Michelle Chaudoin, Seth and Celeste Parkinson, Ryan Chatwin (I'm using their names at the time, even if their names are now different). I'm sure we were exhausting, which is why we had so many different babysitters. Even if some agreed to eventually come back, they needed a good long break before they did.

At one point, we had a large German Shepherd named Raspberry (I think I named her. I don't know...I liked fruit). Raspberry was an outside dog, but I remember some of our babysitters were afraid of her, so of course, we'd bring her into the house and chase the babysitter back into our parents bedroom, where they'd lock themselves in.

On one occasion when Karen Orgill was babysitting us and we were all playing outside and one of the neighbor kids rode too close to Carl on their bike and ran over Carl's toe or something. Rather than crying, Carl started to hold his breath. I was across the street at the Proctors, but can still remember Karen carrying Carl across Eastmoor towards Proctors calling for help as Carl's face turned purple. Marge Proctor ran into the house to call an ambulance while Larry Proctor tried to get Carl to open his mouth and breathe. Finally, after several tense seconds, Carl let out a big breath and started to cry. He was fine, but I can imagine how scary that must have been for a young babysitter.

Another time, Ryan Chatwin was babysitting us, and we were all playing with some darts and a dart board we had down in our basement (looking back, I have no idea why we had a dartboard or where it came from). I neglected to follow proper safety protocol and threw a dart while Carl was between me and the dart board. It went right into Carl's hand, between his thumb and index finger (apparently besides not being safe, I was also a terrible aim (or was I?)). Ryan ended up calling his dad Al and I remember Al coming to the house and telling me that I needed to make sure everyone was behind me before throwing a dart. Sound advice.

On another occasion, Seth and Celeste Parkinson were combining forces to babysit us. I don't remember anything specific that we did, but it must not have been good, because at some point, Seth and Celeste called their dad Rich and he came down and got after us. I don't remember everything that was said, but I do remember something to the effect of that if we couldn't be good for nice babysitters, then our parents were going to have to get us mean babysitters.

Needless to say, we were a handful. I don't envy anyone who took on the challenge of babysitting the Mouritsen boys in the mid-80s.

Brother on Brother Violence

I was never much of a baseball player, but at one point, I did play teeball and was practicing hitting off a tee in our backyard. Carl was out there with me and was in the way of my swing, so possibly remembering Al's advice, I picked Carl up and put him behind me, figuring that way he would be out of harm's way. I then took a mighty swing. As I should have anticipated, the follow-through carried the bat behind me, where it connected with Carl's forehead, giving him a large goose egg.

When we first moved to Eastmoor, there were only four houses. We lived in the red-brick house on the corner. Proctors lived across the street in the white-brick house. Johansons lived next store to us to the south, and Tripps lived kitty-corner across the street. At some point, Bolinders began to build next to Tripps and the dirt hills resulting from the excavation were hard to resist and we'd frequently go over to the Bolinder's lot and play. At some point, there was a small trailer over there, and we' treat it almost like a see-saw because if you stood at one end, that end would tip toward the ground. One day we were over playing on the trailer and I was making it tip down, and then lost my balance and fell off, which caused it to tip back the other way, with the other end hitting Scott’s (I believe?) thumb and breaking it.

Before our basement was finished, Scott and Alan drew lines for a BYU basketball court on the cement floor and we'd play games down there, usually Carl and I against Scott and Alan. I was quite a bit bigger than my younger brothers at this point in our lives and I remember blocking a lot of shots. It seems like when we'd have late church, we'd spend Sunday mornings playing basketball down in the basement until it was time to get ready. I'm also quite certain these games ended in fights more often than not.

I'm sure there are many other stories that my parents and siblings could tell. And I'd guess these events aren't too atypical for large families. I'm not sure I always did at the time, but looking back, I loved growing up with my siblings and am grateful to be able to look back on these experiences.

Family portrait in pink to celebrate my little sister joining the family

Obligatory sibling pyramid (but seriously, look at those arms)