I Just Want You to Know_ Letters to My Kids on Love, Faith, and Family - Kate Gosselin [1]
During these simpler times when I was at home alone taking care of all eight of you during the day, I was happy and satisfied—but I was also exhausted. Being your mommy is a big job, and one I never took lightly. And even though we didn’t often venture outside the house for the first few years, I was never bored. Funny how that works.
My hope is that you see through these letters how much I love you as a group and, more important, as individuals. You each have unique qualities, characteristics, and personalities that together complete our family. Never forget that inside my hard, strict outer shell is a heart bursting with love for each of you. As I always say, I didn’t set out to have eight children but I ended up with the best eight kids on the planet, and I thank God daily for each one of you.
1
ORDINARY IN AN EXTRAORDINARY WAY
We pulled into the parking lot at Friendly’s restaurant for one of our rare dinners out. I got out of our Big Blue Bus and was reaching in for one of the kids when a black dog ran over and started licking my leg. Though he was obviously a fan of my leg, I wasn’t a fan of the dog. I looked around and saw his owner, an older lady.
“Excuse me, could you please put him on a leash?” I asked.
“You want me to do what?”
“Could you put him on a leash? I have to get my kids out of the car and some of them are scared of dogs.”
“I will not!” she said indignantly.
Another lady in a van parked nearby had watched the encounter. “What did she say?” she asked the woman with the dog.
“She told me to put him on a leash, and I said I wouldn’t.”
At that point, Jon and I just tried to do the best we could. We got all eight of the kids out of the bus and assembled in a line holding hands, steering clear of the dog still panting at my ankles.
“They were just on TV,” the van lady said to the dog lady.
Jon and I started to lead the kids away from the bus.
“Hey, were you just on TV?” the dog lady asked. Suddenly she didn’t have as much attitude.
“Yes,” I said over my shoulder. I didn’t want to look at her and her salivating dog. I just kept walking.
We took off across the parking lot with the woman following us. “I know who you are. I love that show!”
What do you do with that? I’ve had plenty of practice since that first fan encounter, but practice doesn’t always make it easier. Most people are respectful. They know how to say, “Oh, how cute,” and move on. My biggest concern is getting my children safely to our destination, but persistent fans want to keep the conversation going.
Some people think the show took away our privacy, and maybe our right to it; but before the show even began folks would approach us. They wanted to see the kids. Let’s face it—they’re cute! I get it that people are naturally drawn to their sweet little faces. I understand people’s curiosity about a large family with sets of multiples and the attention it attracts in a small town. But even then I longed to be inconspicuous and do the things ordinary families did.
In those early days, people didn’t approach us much; they would, for the most part, just stand back and stare. If I had paid attention, I would have seen them pointing and counting, but most of the time I didn’t even notice. I was usually so hyper-focused on making sure the kids got safely to our destination that I didn’t notice people’s reactions unless they made it impossible for me to ignore them—like the lady with the dog. A lot of times I would say, “It’s nice to meet you, but I’m sorry, I have to get my kids in the car.”
The persistent fans were often more concerned about what they were getting out of me than having respect for my situation. That’s probably where my perceived bad attitude toward the public started. Depending on the location, I tried to be cordial and kind, but I probably didn’t always respond very well. Frankly, it bothered me that people wouldn’t leave us alone. Sometimes they even wanted to touch the kids. I got very good about quickly stepping in between them before they could.
These types of encounters caused Jon