Your dad and I are generally under the impression that we are not having any more kids. We always said we wanted two, and now that we have such a perfect little family, it is hard to imagine changing it in any way. There are lots of reasons that we think of when explaining why we are "done." For example, a family of four can always get seated quickly in a restaurant. We have four Colts seats. And most importantly, there are two of you and two of us, so we as parents will never be outnumbered.
In all seriousness, the best part of having two kids at the same time is also the worst - That each phase of your childhood only happens once. For the bad stuff, this is quite handy. Only one period of infancy (and not sleeping more than three hours at a time), teething, terrible twos, zit faced, angry adolescence, and saving for college. But for the good stuff, it seems like I am getting cheated a little. I hate that you will only be babies for such a short time, one first birthday, one first ice cream cone, one bar mitzvah, one first school dance, one first date, that I can only teach you to drive once (maybe your dad would be better suited for that task, considering my driving record). And your age right now makes me want to stop time.
You are becoming autonomous beings. This morning we plopped you on the couch and you both could hold your own bottles. Oscar, you figured out how to maneuver the bottle into your little mouth first, and Judah followed soon after. Feeding you guys has been the biggest commitment, by far, of time, energy and resources. The fact that you are starting to understand how to handle that basic survival instinct yourselves is nothing short of amazing to me. Judah, you have even taken things a step further, and have started feeding yourself finger foods. I love the look of shock mixed with pride on your little face when you can grasp a puff off the tray of the high chair and actually deposit it in your mouth. And talk about positive reinforcement, every time you succeed in getting a morsel of food in your mouth, it just makes you want to try again. I suspect you will be dipping french fries in ketchup before we know it.
Your play is more self directed now too. We have all figured out that you are your own best toys. If I sit you guys on the floor facing each other, you can provide each other with plenty of entertainment. You are laughing at each other, having babbling conversations, and even getting frustrated or tired together. True to Joseph and Kaufman form, you are also already fighting with each other. It doesn't matter if I put twenty toys in front of you, both of you only want the toy in the other's hands. It is hilarious and fascinating.
All in all, I am beginning to understand that parenting twins (and probably all kids) changes the meaning of time and memories. I don't want to get all existential here, but sometimes when I watch you, I realize that memories are being made as we speak, and I feel a sort of instant nostalgia. If time never went more slowly when I was pregnant, it never went faster than since you have been born.
For balance, I think I will finish this post with a good old fashioned story about poop. Brent and I have been dying to see The Hangover. Our friend Jonathan Baer offered to babysit the boys while we ran out to see it one weeknight evening. Bear in mind, (haha, no pun intended) that Baer (get it?) has never babysat for anyone or anything before, not even a neighbor's plant. However, he has joined us frequently for "Freeloaders Sunday" where we feed all our stray single guy friends on Sunday nights. And Baer has really become a part of the Joseph clan lately, coming over for lots of meals, drinks and good times. We love hanging out with him and he is very helpful with the babies. That being said, we figured we would put the boys to bed and then all Baer would have to do was sit on the couch and watch some bad TV (he has an unusual affinity for Real Housewives of NJ). But that wasn't exactly how things turned out.
Not fifteen minutes after we left, Baer called Brent in a panic. Judah had pooped. (Which is quite out of character for him, he usually does his business in the morning, like his dad...) And we are talking a MAJOR breach here. Out the diaper, up his back, EVERYWHERE. Brent had to walk Baer through the whole debacle. And remember, this is a man who had never changed a diaper in his life. But he got through it like a champ, and he got a fifth of Jack as a reward. And as an unintended benefit, when Baer told all his female co-workers about his adventures in babysitting, he got major brownie points! He is welcome back anytime.
