We never planned to have five kids. One kid seemed like an overwhelming challenge to sanity. Five just sort of happened. First of all, triplets. Thank you, fertile genetic ancestors, for passing down to me the uterus of some sort of superwoman. Then, you guessed it, twins, fraternal. At that point my husband and I considered buying a second house to maintain constant physical separation, because a sixth (or my god, seventh or eighth) child would have sent us over the cliffs of insanity. Not to mention the cliffs of poverty. We survived, and we’re very happy. Three boys and…