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" A half hour before dinner, Terrance, 16, and his brother Joshua, 12, carry a long folding table up from the basement and slide it next to the dining-room table. Sidney and Terrell, both 18, grab folding chairs, while Tony, 16, puts out the silverware. In the kitchen, 36-year-old Bridgett Maddix pulls a pan heaped with barbecued ham from the oven, then checks on the corn bread baking in a large skillet. A pot of brown beans simmers on the back burner. The kids \u2014 11 in total \u2014 wander through the cramped but cheery yellow kitchen to see what&amp;#039;s cooking. When dinner is served, the youngsters, ages 12 to 20, quiet down, so Bridgett&amp;#039;s husband, Eric, 40, can say grace: &amp;quot;Heavenly Father, I ask that you bless this family and make us strong....&amp;quot;  In this Kansas City, MO, family, all the kids are bound by love, but only a few are connected by birth. It took two sudden deaths \u2014 and two promises kept \u2014 to bring them together under one roof.  Bridgett vividly remembers the day in December 1999 when she was riding in a car with her mother, Audrey Coburn. Audrey had always loved and nurtured children. After raising her own four kids, she became a foster mother and eventually adopted seven foster children, most of them when they were infants. &amp;quot;If something were to happen to me, would you take care of the kids?&amp;quot; Audrey had asked that day in the car. Bridgett thought her mother was joking because the idea seemed outlandish: Her mom was healthy, and Bridgett was a single mom at the time, with two daughters. But Audrey was serious: &amp;quot;Promise me you&amp;#039;ll keep the family together.&amp;quot; Bridgett promised. Later, her older sister, Belinda, also a single mom with two children, made the same pledge. Two weeks afterward, Audrey died suddenly from heart failure. Though stunned and devastated, Bridgett swung into action. She packed up the four girls her mom had adopted \u2014 Tierra, Janika, Shanise, and Shantera \u2014 and moved them into her apartment with her own two daughters, Tasha and Victoria. Belinda packed up the three boys \u2014 Terrell, Tony, and Terrance \u2014 and moved them into her apartment with her two sons, Sidney and Joshua.  Although both families lacked space and money, they managed until December 2005, when 43-year-old Belinda fell sick with pneumonia, then developed complications and passed away within four months. &amp;quot;I felt so lost afterward,&amp;quot; says Bridgett. &amp;quot;But I knew what I had to do.&amp;quot; By now married, she and her husband, Eric, had all five boys \u2014 and the boys&amp;#039; two dogs \u2014 move into the couple&amp;#039;s home. Bridgett never wondered if she should become the mother to the entire bunch, only how she and Eric would make it work. The couple, who were wed in 2003, now do everything as a team: He&amp;#039;s on parent duty during the day and then works the night shift at an auto shop. Bridgett works two day jobs, as a cafeteria cook at an elementary school, then at the after-school program until 6:00 p.m.  As soon as she gets home, she heads to the kitchen to start dinner. Because she likes being able to stretch the food and the dollars, &amp;quot;cooking is my job,&amp;quot; says Bridgett, who spends about $500 a week to feed 13. But there are plenty of helping hands around the house. &amp;quot;Everyone pitches in,&amp;quot; she explains. &amp;quot;The older kids assist the younger ones with homework. The girls dust every Saturday. The boys feed the dogs.&amp;quot; There aren&amp;#039;t enough beds, so the boys take turns sleeping on a mattress on the floor. And the family drives to church in shifts because not everyone can fit in two cars. But the house is full of laughter: &amp;quot;There are a lot of people to have fun with,&amp;quot; says Tony. Chatter replaces silence at the dinner table as soon as amen is said, with the kids talking about what got done \u2014 and what didn&amp;#039;t \u2014 on the chore list. This morning, someone apparently goofed: &amp;quot;Five boys walked by the trash this morning, and no one saw it overflowing?&amp;quot; Bridgett asks. As punishment, the boys have to write the sentence &amp;quot;I will take out the garbage&amp;quot; 500 times each before they can watch TV. &amp;quot;It&amp;#039;s the best discipline,&amp;quot; Bridgett later whispers. &amp;quot;They hate to write sentences.&amp;quot; Friends and teachers marvel at how well Bridgett and Eric manage the huge family. The children earn mostly A&amp;#039;s and B&amp;#039;s, and Bridgett hasn&amp;#039;t missed a parent-teacher conference. Says kindergarten teacher Sara Stewart, who knows Bridgett as a coworker and a parent, &amp;quot;She just never complains.&amp;quot;  But Bridgett has never considered honoring her promises to be anything extraordinary. &amp;quot;I&amp;#039;m just filling my mother&amp;#039;s shoes,&amp;quot; she explains. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
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