Yours, mine and ours

There's one thing you don't consider when you have just one baby ... how two babies would interact. When there's just one, the thought doesn't really cross your mind, it simply doesn't have to. A singleton lives in his or her own baby world. She sticks her toes in her own mouth, is content with his own pacifier and can roll about freely, bumping into only the toys and other objects around the room.

Add another baby and the whole scene changes. He may lock his lips around her foot as they play on the floor. She reaches over to, quite adeptly I have to admit, scarf his pacifier and quickly put it in her own mouth. Let's face it, your fist is just as good as mine when I have the need to teeth.

They will roll right into one another. So young and unaware (yet too aware), there's no attention paid to who has the right-of-way. Kick, grab, drool and pull on any little body part that's within reach, doesn't really matter who it belongs to.

At times, their encounters are pure entertainment. You can just hear her thinking, "Get out of my way, buddy, didn't you see me coming?"

Or, "Hey doll, that's my ear you just chewed on and drooled in. You better not try it again once you have a tooth in that mouth."

There's nothing more entertaining than when the two are free to roll, scoot or drag themselves around, and they happen to be within a four-square-foot area of one another.

You can't possibly imagine their shenanigans until you've witnessed it. Sometimes, I think we don't believe some of the antics they pull even when they are unfolding before our eyes.

As toes are stuck in any one's mouth, fists become a free-for-all and "what's yours is mine" is the way of life, I've come ponder what life was like for them before 11:25 p.m. on February 19. It's interesting to think that this dueling pair co-existed for 36 weeks inside one seemingly small space.

Yes, they were much, much smaller then. They didn't have the motor skills they now have. But still, in relation to space comparisons and developmental milestones, the miracle that two grew where one really should is something to think about.

Good or bad? I don't know. Good for us, we got two for the price, I should say pregnancy pains, of one. Bad for them? I guess only they could say. Part of me is saddened when I think about one spending the better part of eight months on top of the other. By the sixth month or so, someone was kicked, prodded or poked every time their roommate made a move. It became a constant struggle for space, and God knows what else.

Issues inside the womb aside, the two are now at odds over who is being held, fed or coddled at any given time. Try as I might, when it's two against one, someone usually comes up short. Yes, you can hold, talk, read and play with two babies at once, but let's face it, you can really only cuddle one at a time. And we've reached a point where everyone is fully aware of what's playing out around them.

"Why am I in this Exersaucer while he's having his bottle and being rocked in your arms?," I can hear her asking even though she can't yet utter a word.

It's a constant balancing act of which I'm becoming more and more aware.

I've learned there are many things you simply can't prepare yourself for. Read the writings of experts, take to heart the advice given by doctors, but you can't really imagine the full potential of nurturing twins until you're living it. Filled with constant worry, never-ending work and infinite love, it's entertainment at its finest. I guess it doesn't really matter whose it is.