Part 5 (1/2)

”Always tell the...”

”Truff [Truth]!”

”You get what you get, and you don't get...”

”Upset!”

While the kids were using language to start communicating who they were, Jon and I used communication to survive and to handle logistics. And I think we did pretty well with that.

The good days were really good, and as a whole we worked well together. At that point our team was stronger than ever. We had the routine down, and we both knew our own responsibilities-from our schedule at home to whenever we had to go somewhere. If we were taking a family outing, I would pack everything inside and then Jon would load the food, strollers, and everything else I had packed into the van. I would dress the kids, and Jon would do the shoes and coats.

Even so, I had a lot of stress. In public I stressed about the kids running out in a parking lot-and I always wore my emotions on my sleeve. When I felt this way, it came out in anger and frustration, and I often took it out on Jon. I also didn't focus on the fact that much of the responsibility for our children, the finances, the schedules, the decisions about the future was on me, but I felt it. So I would snap at Jon.

For the first year and half at the Elizabethtown house, I was taking care of eight little kids, with little help. Normally I was by myself all day, every day-though a friend would stop by occasionally to play with the kids, my sister Kendra would come over and watch the kids while I ran out to the grocery store, and Nana Janet still came every week. But for the most part, I was by myself and exhausted, and I often felt out of control. I constantly fought the fear of a sudden injury or accident, that I would be trapped in my home and not be able to get help, or that I couldn't do things quickly or easily.

Maybe because we were often in survival mode, Jon and I didn't always communicate in a friendly manner. We had eight kids and didn't focus enough on each other. Jon once asked me, ”Kate, do you realize we have been walking on eggsh.e.l.ls for two years?” It was true. I think it was because I felt the weight of responsibility so heavily. I couldn't get sick. If I got sick, the whole camp shut down, and we didn't have time for that. A lot was riding on me, which often made me grouchy.

Even so, much of what I said to Jon was unwarranted. I could have watched what I said better, could have guarded my tongue better. And I knew it. The cameras made it obvious. So even if I didn't realize what I said at the time, it was recorded for me to watch again, and again.

I wanted to communicate better, but I often failed. I surrounded myself with 5x8 note cards with verses from the Bible about guarding your tongue: ”Reckless words pierce like a sword, but the tongue of the wise brings healing” (Proverbs 12:18), and ”He who guards his mouth and his tongue keeps himself from calamity” (Proverbs 21:23). I needed reminders, since I often fell back into old patterns of communicating, which weren't very pleasant. Still, I always felt love and dedication-no matter how I was communicating. No marriage is perfect, but I was committed to ours.

My communication to the outside world also needed to change. I was thoroughly annoyed with fans, with people wanting to see our kids and touch them. At the time, I considered all fan attention unwanted and an annoyance. I just didn't think through the obvious-that if I put my kids on TV people would fall in love with them. When viewers of our show would see our kids in real life, it would inevitably be exciting for them. I didn't make the connection that having people who cared-fans-meant our show continued, and therefore our job continued. I needed the fans, but I didn't know it.

I became aware of what a spoiled brat I was being. When I started speaking and telling our story and getting out in the world alone, I had the chance to look around and see reactions and responses rather than to focus so intensely on my eight kids.

When I would speak in front of an audience and tell them our story, I felt completely supported and loved by the crowd. It was truly amazing. And during my book signings, people waited in line for an autograph, and with tears in their eyes, they told me their stories in return. I've heard many times: ”Kate, you're such an inspiration to me. If you can do it with eight kids, I can do it with two.” That is so encouraging to me! Suddenly, I noticed a reciprocal supportive bond had formed. I now noticed that my fans had become my inspiration just as much as I was theirs. I truly am grateful for them!

I started to consciously pay attention and appreciate the people who supported me. Thousands of emails came in, cras.h.i.+ng our server, telling us how glad they were that we were so real on TV. And I have no choice but to be real, by the way-I'm too busy to learn lines or rehea.r.s.e.

I saw the world differently. I realized all moms are the same-we want the best for our families and want to do our best every day. I'm a mom first, like every other mom out there. I still identify with the unshowered stay-at-home mom wearing a dirty T-s.h.i.+rt and sweatpants with hair that sticks up. Being a mom can be very monotonous; stay-at-home moms need tons of encouragement as no one realizes how incredibly difficult each day is. On the other hand, it truly is the most fulfilling job you can ever have.

It wasn't until I realized this that my communication changed.

8.

NO GROUP THINK.

When I was pregnant with the six, I thought naively, ”At least we've had twins before, so we know how to parent multiples.” I couldn't have been more wrong. What you do with two, you can't do with six. My mothering had to completely change.

As every mother knows, it's important to see each child as an individual created by G.o.d. I knew that too, but with multiples, it was tempting to fall into a group mentality during their first two years. I changed all of their diapers at once, fed them the same meals at the same times, and took them to the same places together. Giving them individual treatment just wasn't doable.

When their personalities starting s.h.i.+ning through, it wasn't possible to think of them only as a group anymore-and it started to become easier to find ways to make each child feel special for who he or she was. Their differences started to become noticeable especially when they started talking, and I could see how each of the kids is unique from any other. It is amazing to see how different each of my kids are when they all came from the same environment, same parents, same house-and are even the same age.

I began to treat them differently as they got older. I had always been strict and rigid, so it took me awhile to understand that since each child is different, we don't have to parent them the same. I needed to figure out what worked for each of them.

Other moms of multiples told us they gave certain kids permission not to nap anymore. Hearing that somehow gave me permission to parent creatively. We don't just try to be fair; we try to raise each one according to his or her own unique personalities, talents, and needs.

Sure enough, as they got older, some of the kids still needed a nap while others didn't. Cara didn't always need a nap when she was younger, so I told her to come downstairs when Mady fell asleep. Same with the little girls-Alexis always needed a nap or she'd fall asleep during dinner. Leah slept most of the time, but Hannah never did. I started telling her she could come downstairs when the other two fell asleep.

Then when Hannah and Leah started asking for a ”nakin,” I would let them have one at each meal. They were the only ones who did not shred or rip them. I tried to look for little things to reward each of them, so they felt like individuals.

All of the kids are so completely different that how I talk to them, discipline them, and play with them is different. With Collin I have to be firm and clear, but if I used the same voice with Aaden, he would be in tears instantly. I can treat Hannah like a seven-year-old sometimes and rationalize with her, and I can also reason with Leah; but with Alexis, I have to go over everything over and over again, since she's not as focused.

Mady and Cara have flip flopped personalities growing up; they each took turns being the dominant one. I have since learned this is normal for twins, though it has not been my experience in raising higher order multiples.

Alexis in a cozy spot.

Alexis is silly, loves making people laugh-and trouble finds her. Hannah has always acted older and worries if anyone is sick or if things aren't fair. Aaden is thoughtful. Collin is orderly yet controlling. Leah loves girly, baby things. Joel has always been easygoing.

While I can't always give each one my undivided attention every day, each child is on my radar screen at different times. When the little girls were potty training, I didn't have to think about the boys who were still in diapers; and when I trained the boys I didn't need to focus on the girls because they had already been potty trained. It was nice to not have to worry about all of them at once. When Aaden needed gla.s.ses, he was on my radar screen. And of course, when he got gla.s.ses we needed to figure out how to keep them on his face and then to keep the other five from plucking them off his face.

With eight kids, or any number really, it's hard to have time for all of them collectively, let alone individually. I have really struggled with spending enough time with each of them. I have a lot of guilt about that, but I tried to not miss the details. My guiding principle has always been that just because I have eight doesn't mean I can't try to treat them each like an only child. I realize that's setting the bar very high, but since when do I ever set mediocre goals?

Some of the kids were more independent than others, and I just let them go. Those who wanted to hang on me more or needed more attention from me knew to come find me. I just had to trust that whoever needed the extra attention would seek it out. If someone came wandering downstairs in the middle of the night, we didn't make a big deal out of it and just scooped them up into bed with us or made a little bed on the floor next to us. When they wanted to spend time with me in the kitchen, I put whoever came in up on the counter so we could talk while I made dinner.

When they were babies, it was harder to figure out which one needed me more; so the older they got, the easier it was to give them more attention. When Mady and Cara were old enough to start doing ch.o.r.es, I put together a ch.o.r.e chart, which included rewards. They could choose spending time alone with Mommy or Daddy, getting ice cream, or staying up an extra hour-all of which they loved. For them, time with a parent was the best reward.

Once I remember Cara really needed time alone with me, so I took her grocery shopping. At one point while we were shopping, she got a cart's length behind me and freaked out. She then asked me to call her name each time I was ready to leave the aisle. Even though she was right behind me, she was fearful I would turn the corner without her noticing, and she would once again become separated from me. Then after I loaded the groceries in the car, I returned the cart, and when I came back to the van, she was out of her seat huddled down on the ground. I was shocked that in ten seconds, she was that scared! I knew she had developed a fear that someone was going to take her or that I would lose her, but I didn't know how bad it was. I talked with her, telling her I would never put her in danger because she is my ”prized possession. ” I told her that I loved her and would always take good care of her. I also told her that though being wary is good, she was going a little over the top. I made sure to pay extra attention to her over the next few weeks, and she seemed fine from then on.

The huge struggle with multiples or kids the same age is the cla.s.sic, ”It's not fair!” If I'm making a salad and give the one who's in the kitchen a crouton, they run to tell the others about it, which gets them all running in to claim their own. It's not feasible to do eight times the same thing you do for one on a whim. This reporting back to the others happened so many times that I had to tell them if they got something special in the kitchen, like a lick of icing, they weren't allowed to tell the others about it. Seems so sad, but it was necessary.

Whenever I made a cake, I dipped two additional beaters to hand out four. But because I didn't make cakes too often, it might have been another three months before I could get to the other four-and by then I wouldn't remember who hadn't yet gotten a beater. The whole situation would became a huge production, so I had to loosen the rigid rotation schedule and simply give them out to whoever was wandering through the kitchen at that time.

My motto is now ”life's not fair” so hopefully they'll quit expecting me to treat them all exactly the same. Wish me luck on that!

Hannah with her dinosaur egg.

I'm often asked if we gave the little kids all the same present at holidays and birthdays. We didn't. It was never economical to buy six of the same toy. They learned how to share, and they rarely all at once wanted to play with the same item.

One holiday, though, I bought each child a dinosaur egg that hatched if you put it in water for three to four days. It felt more manageable and made the kids feel special to hatch one egg at a time. When it was Hannah's turn, we were going to the beach so we had to take the stinkin' thing with us while it hatched. And we had to ”guard” it wherever we were going. It was her her dinosaur! dinosaur!

As a parent, it is fascinating to watch your child develop before your very eyes and bloom into a unique individual. This fact does not change when raising multiples; however, the struggles to be able to single them out and celebrate their differences does increase. During this time I started to identify what made each child tick and consciously tried to encourage each one's unique qualities. In fact, this is why I don't refer to our children as twins and s.e.xtuplets-they're individuals and this is how I view them. They each have their own needs, desires, and capabilities. Throughout life they are lumped into one group often enough by the outside world, so at home especially, they need to be encouraged to be confident in who they are as unique individuals.

Letter to Aaden Dear Aaden, As I sit here in the Big Blue Bus waiting for you and your brothers and sisters at the bus stop, I find myself thinking about you. You are quite an amazing little man and always have been. At a tiny 2 pounds 7.5 ounces at birth, you were the smallest of my babies. Your head was smaller than a baseball, and you had a miniscule amount of sandy blond-brown hair. You didn't have quite enough hair though to fill in the swirly of the cowlick right in the center of your hairline above your forehead. That swirly always warmed my heart and made me smile. Today, it gives you that cute little spike of hair in the front.

Although you were small, you were tough-and alert! Your incubator was on a very busy aisle. It was across from Collin and next to Hannah-although a dividing wall stood between yours and Hannah's incubators. One time I was holding you next to your busy aisle and your tiny squinty eyes followed whenever a doctor or a nurse would walk by. None of our medical team could believe how alert you were. It was so amazing to watch your little eyes following all the NICU activity.

You scared me though, Aaden! When you were two weeks old, I received a call that you were sick and that the staff caught it in time, but you slipped in your recovery. You had been doing very well and were scheduled to come home with the girls; but in the end, you and Collin came home last. The important thing is that you recovered and gained weight and were so precious! You were five pounds when you came home. Wow! Big boy!

My memories of you as a baby include you being rattled and disturbed by all of the stress and the noise in our house. You regularly cried inconsolably until you were in a dark and quiet place in the house (which was hard to find with ten family members and many helpers under one small roof) snuggled close to Mommy. Daddy would do an impression of your awareness-pursing his lips and looking around the room with your same squinty eyes. It always made us laugh!