At any given moment, you can walk into my house these days and completely expect to see babies being tortured. The cries abound. That's what I've learned so far with twins...you let 'em cry. With Addison any peep was the beacon for me to run to the rescue. There were very few times when I left her to scream her little heart out.
Not so with the boys. Not because I'm mean...but because I am only one. One lap, one set of hands, one usable shoulder at a time, one mouth to use to whisper sweet words of comfort. Most days they stagger the hunger, the diapers, the tummy trouble. Most days. There are those times when my little sirens go off simultaneously and all I can do is pick. I become "Master Triage Mom" as I attend to the most egregious complaints first. Hunger trumps diaper....diaper trumps tummy ache...tummy ache trumps boredom...etc.
However, at just over a month old, my little angels have learned to smile. In-between the screams and the wails, there is this peace. They actually see my face and look into my eyes. They study my lips and my hair flopping around...and they smile. My reward. My delight each day. And all the screams become tolerable once again because somewhere in there, the clouds will part, the sun will shine and Will and Alex will smile at me.
