The Lindberg Bunch: Although having a family of ten can be difficult at times, it provides constant entertainment and people to be around

Tapping the sticks on my drum pad, which was sashed across my body with two belts strung together, I waited for the commanding officer to yell out his commands.

“Step up! Halt! Scramble!” All four of the kids ran every which way.

“Wait, why are we scrambling?” I asked.

“Because the redcoats are coming!” Beck yelled back at me.

“Third position! Aim! Fire!”

After everyone failed to hit the Nerf-brand target, our commanding officer, my oldest younger brother Emerson, ordered his basement-based army to collect their bullets and head out.

The Lindberg Army was created out of boredom because in my family, there is never an excuse to be bored. There’s always something to do, someone to talk to or something out of the ordinary happening to be entertained by. 

With eight kids — consisting of myself (16), 13-year-old twins Stella and Emerson, Ruby (11), ten-year-old triplets Beck, Ellphie and Foster and Phoebe (five) — two parents and a year-old puppy, the stories I have banked in my memory are endless. Though we are a chaotic bunch, and I don’t always like having them around, I’m so grateful that I’m growing up with them. Having them with me through quarantine has only made it more valuable and made us closer.

Our family dynamic has shifted a lot during quarantine. Being trapped in a house with eight other people for 13 months really made them grow on me. Little things like playing Just Dance is a trademark of the Lindberg children and has only made us a more tightly knit bunch than ever before, at least from my perspective.

In a game that we created during quarantine called “banana,” we all get under a blanket except for one person who tries to pull everyone out. Holding down the corners of a blanket barely keeping five people underneath, the lights would be out and the banana would strike, grabbing my ankle from through the blanket and dragging me out. Despite our large age gap, games like this are what keep us close.

Stella is my second in command and is ruthless when it comes to keeping order in our family. She’s a drill sergeant in the mornings before school, making sure everyone wakes up on time — sometimes with the use of instruments at a very loud volume — and sings the song “Rise and Shine” that our dad, Derek, used to sing to us to wake us up before school when we were younger.

Stella is someone who if you look at her the wrong way, you’re in for a beating. So at meals, if someone does this, it could potentially start a full table fight. Though, just about anything goes when it comes to starting a fight at meals. The one person that never gets in a fight during a meal is Emerson, who is the most relaxed person I’ve ever met — he’ll even tell you he rarely gets stressed.

During quarantine, most of these fights would die out, but then after dinner, eventually become pillow fights that we call the “All Out Brawl.” My parents and Phoebe, who is possibly the slowest eater in existence next to my brother Foster, finish easting. As they do, you can hear songs like “Jump” by Van Halen and “We’re Not Going To Take It” by Twisted Sister playing while six kids have a massive pillow fight.

Generally this eventually cools down into a family hangout session or dance party that features songs like “Take On Me” by Ah-Ha and “Learn To Fly” by the Foo Fighters.

Stella, Emerson and I — or as we are called by our mom, “the big three” — are the leaders of the pack. We used to be much more divided from “the little four” than we are now. 

I used to have a hard time being present with my family, simply because I thought they were all annoying and too chaotic. Because I am the oldest, I was revered by the kids and they wouldn’t dare pick a fight with me. Being with them a lot during quarantine made me realize how lacking I was being with my role as a big sister. I stepped up, and now I guide my troops into the face of fury.

That’s not to say there aren’t times where it gets annoying. Situations like road trips can be some of the more stressful situations that my family comes across. All nine of us packed into a blue Ford Transit with so much stuff that some of us can’t move our feet is not the most fun thing to do. Tensions can get high, and stuffed animals sometimes have to become weapons.

The triplets’ antics and mischief in particular are rough, and they started at the age of three when they somehow got through the fence in our backyard and found their way into the neighbor’s basement. They were found by my mom rummaging through the cabinets and hiding in them until she was able to lure them out of the house.

While the chaos no longer bothers me, one of the few things that I’ve always disliked about having a large family is that in public, people stare at us. A lot.

Our multitudinous blonde heads make us recognizable when sitting down at our favorite restaurants. Waiters practically have our orders memorized despite our complex celiac diet modifications. I still get called “Stella” by teachers that I have known since I was five.

Because we stand out like a sore thumb in public my mom, Katie, always gets the attention of some stranger who asks the same questions as everyone else: “Are they all yours? So who’s the oldest? Wow, twins AND triplets?” 

But even though I’ve seen my fair share of weird glares or heard the “Props to you, Mom” line too many times, I love my huge family and all of the quirks that come with them.