We loved the activity. We still do. The house is always full, and people come and go. One of our fears when we first found out was, How do you love five babies all at once? We wanted to make sure everybody got equal attention. But it was not a problem.
When you were infants it was a little hard because you’d be feeding a baby and then you’d want to sit and cuddle and just have a little bit of quiet, one-on-one time. You’d want to contemplate their fingers and toes, and we couldn’t do that when there were four other infants. When you got older, then we were able to break it down a little. Even just a trip to the grocery store—whoever went to the store would take one or two. And even that half hour of one-on-one time was special.
So we would try to do things like that to the extent that we could. When you got even older, you would go and spend the night at Bubbe and Pop-Pop’s. Maybe two or three of you would go, and we would keep the rest at home. It was just amazing if one baby was gone, how much easier it was.
Shira: If you could do it over, would you have done the same thing?
Dan: In a heartbeat! I know Mom agrees with this too. You’re our kids—I mean, that’s a given. But you’re our best friends, honest to God. We would rather be with you all than pretty much anybody else. And that’s about you guys, because I don’t think a lot of parents say that about their kids. It’s a reflection of our children.
Shira: Well, you guys give us all the credit, but really we turned out the way we did because of you, because of how you raised us.
Dan: We don’t see it that way. We think you raised us —you outnumber us!
Shira: Thank you for all you’ve done. [ laughs ] I don’t know how you did it.
Pam: Before we had children, it was just the two of us. We were married for eight years, and we were busy. I mean, every night of the week we were doing something. I don’t know what we were doing, but we were never home. And then after you babies were born we were very busy, but we weren’t doing any of those other things, and in fact could not even remember what those things were. But it wasn’t important to us. What was important to us now was just being with you guys. Those other things must have just been time fillers—because this is the real deal!
Recorded in Olney, Maryland, on April 19, 2009.
SARA GLINES, 61 talks with her husband, GREG GLINES, 62
Sara Glines: I grew up on a farm in Randolph, New Hampshire, which is a very small town. My family’s been there for seven generations, and our kids are the eighth generation. I grew up in the house where my dad was born. Our closest neighbors were almost half a mile away.
I got pregnant when I was sixteen, and nobody knew. I kept it a secret from my parents and my sisters, and I didn’t tell anybody at school—nobody knew except for the father. I had just lost a bunch of weight, so I didn’t look pregnant—I just looked like I was putting my weight back on. I knew I was going to break my parents’ heart, so I didn’t want to tell them. I thought, Maybe I’ll miscarry . Of course, that didn’t happen.
I stayed home from school the day I went into labor. My parents took me to the hospital, thinking it was appendicitis, and when I got there, of course, it was not. When my parents told my younger sister, who was away at school, that I had just had a baby and that she was an aunt, she said, “Well, if you think that’s bad, she smokes, too!” [ laughs ] And I think my dad was far more upset with the fact that I smoked than I had just had a kid!
I had Mark a month after I turned seventeen. The father’s name was Bruce, and his mother was dead set against us getting married. That was pretty traumatic. I can remember sitting in the living room at the farm, and it was myself and Bruce, his mother, my mother, and their priest—they were Catholic, we were not—telling me what a bad person I was for ruining his life. His mother refused to sign the
When you were infants it was a little hard because you’d be feeding a baby and then you’d want to sit and cuddle and just have a little bit of quiet, one-on-one time. You’d want to contemplate their fingers and toes, and we couldn’t do that when there were four other infants. When you got older, then we were able to break it down a little. Even just a trip to the grocery store—whoever went to the store would take one or two. And even that half hour of one-on-one time was special.
So we would try to do things like that to the extent that we could. When you got even older, you would go and spend the night at Bubbe and Pop-Pop’s. Maybe two or three of you would go, and we would keep the rest at home. It was just amazing if one baby was gone, how much easier it was.
Shira: If you could do it over, would you have done the same thing?
Dan: In a heartbeat! I know Mom agrees with this too. You’re our kids—I mean, that’s a given. But you’re our best friends, honest to God. We would rather be with you all than pretty much anybody else. And that’s about you guys, because I don’t think a lot of parents say that about their kids. It’s a reflection of our children.
Shira: Well, you guys give us all the credit, but really we turned out the way we did because of you, because of how you raised us.
Dan: We don’t see it that way. We think you raised us —you outnumber us!
Shira: Thank you for all you’ve done. [ laughs ] I don’t know how you did it.
Pam: Before we had children, it was just the two of us. We were married for eight years, and we were busy. I mean, every night of the week we were doing something. I don’t know what we were doing, but we were never home. And then after you babies were born we were very busy, but we weren’t doing any of those other things, and in fact could not even remember what those things were. But it wasn’t important to us. What was important to us now was just being with you guys. Those other things must have just been time fillers—because this is the real deal!
Recorded in Olney, Maryland, on April 19, 2009.
SARA GLINES, 61 talks with her husband, GREG GLINES, 62
Sara Glines: I grew up on a farm in Randolph, New Hampshire, which is a very small town. My family’s been there for seven generations, and our kids are the eighth generation. I grew up in the house where my dad was born. Our closest neighbors were almost half a mile away.
I got pregnant when I was sixteen, and nobody knew. I kept it a secret from my parents and my sisters, and I didn’t tell anybody at school—nobody knew except for the father. I had just lost a bunch of weight, so I didn’t look pregnant—I just looked like I was putting my weight back on. I knew I was going to break my parents’ heart, so I didn’t want to tell them. I thought, Maybe I’ll miscarry . Of course, that didn’t happen.
I stayed home from school the day I went into labor. My parents took me to the hospital, thinking it was appendicitis, and when I got there, of course, it was not. When my parents told my younger sister, who was away at school, that I had just had a baby and that she was an aunt, she said, “Well, if you think that’s bad, she smokes, too!” [ laughs ] And I think my dad was far more upset with the fact that I smoked than I had just had a kid!
I had Mark a month after I turned seventeen. The father’s name was Bruce, and his mother was dead set against us getting married. That was pretty traumatic. I can remember sitting in the living room at the farm, and it was myself and Bruce, his mother, my mother, and their priest—they were Catholic, we were not—telling me what a bad person I was for ruining his life. His mother refused to sign the
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