For years I’ve had a problem. Over sharing on facebook. When I was little, every single one of my report cards said something along the lines of, “We like her but she talks way too much” or “She’s doing well but please ask her to BE QUIET!”. Facebook is dangerous for people like me. It’s a space to run your mouth and the only “judgement” I receive is in the form of “likes” or supportive comments. Anyhow, this situation with facebook only worsened with my husband and I had our twins. My photos went from drunken birthday pictures  to tiny hands and close ups of eyelashes and ear lobes; my posts went from political commentary on the presidential debate to how repulsive my son’s diapers were that day. I stepped back and took a look at myself through my facebook lens and realized I had become everything I hate: the over eager, over enthusiastic, over sharing mom.

Hence the birth of this blog.

So, having twins is a unique experience. Hell, having a baby is a unique experience but twins is a particularly wild ride (I say this having never had kids before and therefore nothing to compare it to). Our babies were born in October of this year-7 weeks early-and our daughter spent two weeks in intermediate care while our son spent three. The whole thing feels like some crazy cough syrup induced dream at this point but as I sit here and write this, I hear little coos and caas from across the room reminding me that it wasn’t a dream but a beautiful real reality.

I will say what’s hardest here: giant diapers filled with horror, non-stop, piercing screaming in your face; spit up that literally comes out like a waterfall and soaks the clean hair, clean onesie and clean blanket you’ve just worked so hard to create. Fingernails. They’re kind of a pain. They’re really sharp and impossible to cut. I tried to cut our daughter’s fingernails her second week home and I clipped her skin. She wailed and I debated calling Child Services to request a van to take me away. Baby toots aren’t great either. For such little things they sure do produce some grown up man toots. Loud and smelly-room clearing sometimes. When our son was in the intermediate care unit, he tooted once and THREE different nurses from neighboring rooms asked “what that horrible smell was?!” Oh and something called “The witching hour”. This is the time from 5:30pm-7:00pm when the babies do nothing but scream bloody murder. It doesn’t matter what you do-nothing helps. You could literally present them with a $100,000 check and they would spit at you and scream. We walk around the house, we sing them songs, we put them in various devices that roll and beep and scoot. Nope, nothing works but the slow wait until bedtime. Speaking of that, feedings can be hard. They can also be great and a perfect bonding moment but trying to feed two hungry babies at the same time while my two terrible hound dogs bark and leaves floating by our window can make a person pretty crazy. And then we come back to the post-meal waterfall spit up. Joyful.

What’s great: Smiles. Our daughter started smiling at us about two weeks ago and my world has changed. When she recognizes my face and smiles this big goofy smile my heart melts and all the spit up and poop diapers of the world mean nothing to me. The coos and caas. These little bird sounds keep coming out of their cribs and it’s the most precious thing I ever heard. A Doctor friend of my families says it’s a good thing babies are so cute because otherwise we would have stopped having them years ago. Amen Doctor. Feedings. Feedings can be so wonderful. They kick and clench their fists very determined to finish the bottle. We make eye contact and they seem thankful (until they decide to scream) for the food. Ohhh another thing-their kicks. After breakfast, they both go in their cribs for a little while so that I can try and steal some sleep. I watch them from my room on the video monitor and they kick and punch and kick in unison. It’s hilarious. It’s like a Jane Fonda workout taping in there. Apparently this is them exercising. How funny. They’re such interesting little creatures. I try and imagine what it would be like to see a ceiling fan or hear a dog bark or chew on a finger for the first time in life. I find myself staring at them for hours at a time like a weirdo.

Anyway, that’s my intro. Back to work. Back to diapers and feedings and spit up and smiles.