So two weeks/three separate hospital release dates/one obnoxious and terrifying sleep apnea monitor/and many thousands of dollars in medical fees later, we were finally all home together.
Believe it or not, I did not look like this...
I looked like this...
On a good day.
It was Mother's Day when Luke was finally released from the hospital and we were all home as a family.
Naive at the time, I thought it would be all downhill from there.
Thank goodness for your sainted grandmothers who flew cross-country to help out. I don't know how I would have made it without their help. Or your cute aunties and cousins. Or good neighbors and friends. It really takes a village to raise twins.
Your first year is a blur of formula, diapers, spit-up, doctor visits, laundry and tears. I don't know who cried more...you two or me. (Don't feel bad, cute boys always make me cry...)
But, somewhere between then...
you two learned to talk, walk, digest your food, sing, unscrew all the electrical plates in the house, use the toilet, read "No David", count to 30, speak a little Dora-dialect Spanish, crack eggs with no shells and sign your name. On the walls. With Wite-Out.
And you still can make me cry.
I love you, twinks! Happy happy birthday,