Taking care of two babies only ever feels like taking care of one when one of them decides to sleep for six hours straight.  The other day, Theo crashed for a lengthy nap.  Perhaps he’s growing, or perhaps he underslept the day before.  Maybe his last time at the breast was a poor feed.  But, now at two and a half months, I no longer cared why he was sleeping through a feeding, but I was simply overjoyed at the luxury of time his siesta offered us.  Suddenly our afternoon opened up in front of us.  Diaper changes and feedings were done without the accompaniment of impatient cries demanding that it be “my turn!”  While we’ve been blessed with “easy” twins, it was only once the bigger of our two learned to sleep for lengthy sessions that we realized how much more work twins are to a singleton.

We feel we’re pretty good at this twin baby-raising thing.  They’re tandem fed.  At night, Suzanne changes one while the other gets a top-up. Then, we trade off.  During the day, we sneak in household chores (sometimes) and even the occasional workout.  We usually remember their vitamin D drops.  They do their tummy time, and we celebrate their every new facial expression with another dozen photographs.  We don’t race to their every whimper nor do we let them cry too long.  We feel that they seem like secure and satisfied babies.  We feel pretty well adjusted.  And, we’re absolutely exhausted.

The exhaustion has settled in so insidiously that it has become a part of the house like the window in the sitting room or the portrait of Great Grandma Gunter in the stairwell that has the slightest covering of dust on the top of the frame.  We don’t notice it everyday. In fact, we seldom acknowledge it at all.  But, every once in a while…