Each of the four kids has a special, meaningful relationship with their dad. After I've talked to them on the phone for half an hour, they'll have a simple question for Dad, so I hand over the phone thinking it will take them about two minutes and then we'll hang up and get on with whatever we're doing on this end. But then they'll talk for another thirty minutes—and about topics I never would think to discuss (or be able to). Things like politics, films, sports, world events, etc. Jason has helped to develop another whole side of their awareness and personhood that I never would have touched on. Like I know nothing about that centerback they traded when his contract blah blah blah. Or how some new policy in Germany is going to impact the yada yada yada. Or what Scorsese is going for in his allusion to the thingamajig thingy thing. That's just not my thing. So, Dad is special, and they're all wonderfully close, and it's a beautiful thing. Here are some pictures of each of the kids with their dad when they were babies.
When my friend Martha, who had quadruplets two years older than mine, came with her kids to see me in the hospital before I delivered, I noticed how her children always touched one another, not letting the connection between them be broken. My kids did the same thing, touching each other constantly and necessarily. They always loved on each other and stayed connected physically. Even when they were newly born, they did better when they were back together. Here are some of my favorite photos of them staying connected.
I have about 200 favorite pictures, so it's impossible for me to choose even my top ten. But who says I have to narrow it down a lot? We've got space. We've got pixels. I'm going to keep showing my favorites for a little bit, just because it's fun! First I'll start with Supah Gwovah—who some of us call Super Grover. But I really prefer the way my kids said it when they were four years old.
It really helped me yesterday to use pictures for my blog post so I could spend my time working on Chloe's Odyssey, so I'm going to show you some more of my favorite photos of the kids. Hope you enjoy seeing them!
I'm in crunch time, trying to get Chloe's Odyssey ready to publish by Thanksgiving, so I need to spend my usual blog writing time on Chloe's. But, with a commitment to keep posting every day, I'm going to share some of my favorite pictures. Since a picture is worth 1,000 words, here are 3,000 for you!
Lately, I’ve been thinking about my roommate Becky because of blogging about my college days. After graduation and her wedding, she and her husband moved to Independence, Missouri and soon after started a family. We stayed in touch, and we enjoyed sharing several similar experiences. Her first two boys were twins. And she had two more children, another boy and a girl. So besides both of us being moms of multiples, we both had three boys and a girl. Her family came once on vacation and visited us in Colorado and we got to meet her kids and they all got to meet my family.
Then Becky got breast cancer.
My third semester at CSU, I lived off campus in the basement of a house on Myrtle Street, a couple blocks north of the university. Erma owned the house. She was an elderly widow seamstress who rented her basement out to college girls for $150 a month. It was a two bedroom with kitchen and living room, complete with fireplace and separate entrance in back. You had to know someone to get in on the deal, and fortunately for me, I knew someone who knew someone, and the girls there the previous year had all graduated so the house was available. My stand partner in orchestra, Becky, and I decided to share the apartment.
Because I didn’t know how to say no to people when I was young, I got myself into awkward situations. Programmed to always worry about appearances, what other people would think, my choices were based on ridiculous things like comfort in the moment or avoiding anything unpleasant. I was ill-equipped to know how to deal with real life. One time I was “schooled” in a way that began to teach me it is better to deal with something up front with a no than to face the unpleasant circumstances or regrets that come after.
Now that everybody knows how ignorant I was going into college, I might as well tell how I screwed up my first finals week. You might recall from yesterday’s post that I wasn’t very good at reading the details in the registration catalog for CSU. Well, that deficit wasn’t eradicated by the end of my first semester.
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Life with Quadruplets
As a mother of quadruplets, I've had plenty of crazy experiences raising "supertwins." I blog a lot of memories about my kids. Sometimes just my thoughts on things. I get those sometimes—when my brain works. Which is about one third of the time.