Photos are not only my treasure, but also my bane. At least the ones in the boxes upon boxes in my closet. And with this blog, I'm constantly in need of photos, but most of the time, they're in those boxes and I have to remember in which envelope. It costs too much to have someone else convert them for me. So my goal after this book launch is to convert them all myself to digital so I can organize them in an iPad like an electronic photo album. And yesterday—cue exciting, epic, rapturous music—Spencer found a new quick easy app for me to use I just have to share. This sounds like a commercial but it's not. (Well, okay maybe it is a little bit in some sense, but no one is paying me.) It's this cool Google thing that takes pictures of pictures without it looking like a picture of a picture. Takes out the glares, and you can easily fix the edges and corners. I'm so excited! I just wanted to share it with everyone because it's soooo cool. I've been using my flatbed scanner but this is way better.
This morning I’m driving Molly to the eye doctor to get fitted with new contacts. Because she wears rigid lenses, she needs to keep her old contacts out of her eyes for several hours before the exam to make it more accurate. And her glasses aren’t working for her (and she can't find them anyway). Therefore, she cannot drive.
When my sister Suzy and I were in college—she was one year ahead of me—one weekend we were together and lamenting the fact that we weren’t very informed about current events, that we weren’t very “smart.” Testing in junior high had shown us to have the exact same I.Q. She’d been the valedictorian of her high school class and she was on an honor scholarship to Denver University with excellent grades. I, on the other hand, was missing my final in chemistry because I didn’t know how to read the schedule. So I.Q. wasn’t so much a reflection of how we used our brains, but it was more of a measure of potential. She was using her potential a little bit better than I.
Yesterday afternoon, I was out and about, and before I knew it, it was dark and I had to drive home through it. The time change brought sunset much sooner than I’d planned on. It also started to rain. That’s a killer combo for me. The wet roads magnify my inability to figure out where to aim the nose of the car. I can’t see well in the dark, having a good case of “night blindness,” which keeps me off the road at night—at least when I’m behind the wheel. I can still go out, for goodness sake. I can still leave the house when Jason is driving, or a friend gives me a ride. It’s not like I’m that old yet. (Of course, as a mega introvert, I don’t really go out. It just sounds more normal to say so.)
When I was little, my grandma had a Halloween party for my siblings and me, plus my cousins. We played games and had snacks, and all that stuff that goes with kiddie parties. We each had a number, which we’d drawn from a bowl, that would direct us through the games, giving an order to follow for all the activities, and which coordinated with prizes. Near the end of the party, we had the final activity where we found our numbers on cards that were tied to strings what disappeared inside a paper grocery sack. I pulled mine out, excited and eager to receive my prize. And I pulled out a tin helicopter.
Through middle school, I began to let go of my [tight] hold on the kids for their Halloween costumes. I guess I was ready for the break, and they were ready to take on the daunting task of planning and executing such a tremendous feat.
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!
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.
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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.