Grace Bee cares for a 9-month-old foster baby at the couple's Corona de Tucson home. The Bees also have five children of their own and adopted a daughter.

Photos by Benjie Sanders / Arizona Daily Star

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CORONA DE TUCSON — The decorative wreath on her front door says it all: "Bee Happy."

Grace Bee's husband, Republican candidate Tim Bee, is in the middle of one of the most competitive congressional races in the country. She already had a house full of six children that she's responsible for mothering and home-schooling. Her title of "mom taxi" is well-earned — her home is 30 minutes southeast of Tucson.

But Grace answers the door with a smile ear to ear, and in her arms, a 9-month-old infant that she and Tim have taken in through foster care.

This baby is the latest, albeit temporary, addition to their home.

As Grace places the baby on the floor and sits down on her sectional for an interview, she admits that the spotlessness of her living room is staged (she cleaned for our camera).

But the infectious optimism that keeps her husband's public life ticking is real, those close to her insist.

"A saint," one family friend terms her. "Amazing Grace," one of her husband's campaign volunteers has taken to calling her.

Perhaps no single person has had a larger role in propelling the political ambitions of her husband — now probably the most prominent Republican figure in local politics — than 38-year-old Grace.

But did this stay-at-home mom have reservations about her husband, the outgoing president of the state Senate, diving into the political fight of his life?

"I think he had more reservation than I," she says with a laugh. "I'm kind of the one behind him when he's feeling kind of discouraged.

"He's had a dream for many years that it would be nice to run for Congress," Grace says. "So, that was one of the deciding things that I remind him of."

The personal life of Bee's competitor, Democratic congressional incumbent Gabrielle Giffords, has been on full display for more than a year. Giffords' high-profile marriage to NASA astronaut Mark Kelly last November brought the power couple national attention and grabbed headlines for months.

But not much is known about the private lives of the Bees — or of this reserved political spouse.

Now, Grace Bee and her six children are a main narrative of her husband's campaign, which is stressing his family-man image. In Bee's first ad, which he launched last month, Grace and company play a big role.

While Bee has carved out a largely conservative record in the Senate, his softer image and temperament are qualities that Republicans have long believed will be more acceptable to fickle voters in the politically competitive 8th Congressional District than those of other potential candidates would have been.

But the family's functionality is not just for show, the couple and those close to them say.

"A whole lot of people talk about the family-values thing, but Tim and Grace literally do live that lifestyle, and it's not a show or an act," says Jonathan Paton, a Republican state representative and friend of the Bees. "It's the real thing."

Grace Bee's biggest role is supervising a house full of home-schooled children. The Bees' three oldest children — Esther, 13, Victoria, 10, and Bentley, 7 — all take classes through an online charter school.

"In the low levels of math they do things Tim and I never did in school," Grace says.

The Bees are part of a home-school group, and Grace, a former school volleyball coach, is the phys-ed coach for the 4-, 5- and 6-year-olds.

But the Bees are well aware of the criticisms of home schooling. The biggest: a lack of socialization.

"Depends on what you mean by socialized," Grace says. "Home-school kids are very capable of communicating with adults."

And the Bees are not ruling out public education down the road, the couple say in separate interviews. Their decision to keep the kids at home was two-fold. Both had personal experiences with it. Grace was home-schooled for several years, and Tim's mother home-schooled two of his siblings.

And Tim says his life in politics — dividing his time between Tucson and Phoenix for much of the children's youth — had a big part in the decision, as it allowed the family to spend time in both cities.

That hasn't stopped some whispers in the political community about whether the Bees' personal decision to keep the kids at home is at odds with his campaign message that he stood up for public education.

And indeed, while critics are likely to question his support for schools, Bee has supported and helped negotiate state budgets that have increased education spending.

He's also broken from other conservatives on a signature issue: his opposition to private-school vouchers.

"It's just about options," he says. "I believe we need a strong education for our youth across the spectrum, no matter what option people chose, and that's why I'm very passionate about supporting the public education system.

"I think someday, as our lifestyle changes and depending on where we are and what we're doing, we may choose" public school, he adds.

A big part of the equation is whether Bee wins a seat in Congress, which would mean up-rooting this family from its quiet, suburban street in Corona de Tucson and replanting the brood in Washington, D.C. — a place Grace and the kids have never been.

"The basis is togetherness, wherever we are, as long as we're together, that's the important thing," Grace says.

And that kind of change is something for which Grace says she's prepared. She and the kids lived in Phoenix with Tim during his first two years in the Legislature and have had to be creative at structuring life around his career.

Bentley was born between Bee's primary and general election race when he first ran for the state Senate in 2000. Two other little ones followed: Patricia, now 5, and Sterling, 3.

Grace and the children say Tim's bid for Congress has actually allowed the family to spend more time together.

Termed-out in the state Senate and with this year's legislative session over, Tim is often home at night. Weekends are usually spent as a family, knocking on doors and handing out campaign literature.

"They are very creative at finding creative ways to spend quality time together," says Tim's mother, Jerry, who remembers meeting Grace in a sewing class she took with one of Tim's sisters.

But it was years before that when Grace and Tim met, at church. They were just 19.

"It was kind of hit-and-miss as the years went by," Grace says. But the two kept in touch, and "it was more in the last year before we married that we really connected."

They married at 24, and the thing that brought them together — their faith — still guides the Bees' lives. They attend services every Sunday at an East Side non-denominational Christian church.

"It's everything," Grace says of their faith. "It's the basis for our lives. It's a lifestyle for us."

And like most families, the Bees have had their share of obstacles.

Tim champions legislation to toughen domestic-violence laws in large part because his sister is a victim.

Their passion for foster care was a result of Grace's niece being removed from her sister by Child Protective Services.

Tim and Grace took Anneliese, now 2, into their home, eventually adopting her.

"We really saw that need out there — children out there who don't even have a home who are sitting in group homes just waiting," Grace says.

Grace doesn't turn on the TV much. But she can tell you all about the latest Barbie DVD.

"I tell my friends I could be a hermit in my own house, and they don't believe me," she says.

She likes to do the "mundane things that a lot of women hate," like cooking and entertaining.

She knows Giffords from Tim's years in the Legislature, where they served together. They share a "big hug" when they run into each other, she says.

Grace is an expert seamstress: She made Disney princess dresses for her daughters by hand, and 14 years ago, Grace made her own wedding dress.

There's nothing fancy in the family's year-old house — except maybe the crown molding and crystal chandeliers Tim installed in the entryway and dining room. "They look expensive, but they're not," Grace says.

Even though politics and campaigning have come to define her and her family life, Grace is not a political junkie.

That doesn't mean she's not political or that she can't handle the turbulence of a campaign.

"A lot of it has to do with expectations," she says. "If you don't expect what comes with a campaign, and then you fall apart, maybe you aren't fit for the job."

Later in the day, she'll trade her cardigan for a pantsuit and meet Tim at a candidate forum held by the Pima County Republican Women's Club.

In a conference room at the Sheraton Tucson Hotel and Suites, Grace gives the invocation, leading the crowd of 100 in prayer.

"Dear Father, thank you for the freedom we have in this country," she says. "We pray for our nation. We pray that our country will elect those with conservative values. We ask that we regain the seats we lost in the last election cycle and that we can keep the White House."

She concludes: "We know, Lord, that nothing is impossible with you."