Times Two

There is something incredibly satisfying about having two little girls. "My daughters." Feels like the heaviest, most important phrase I could ever utter. And yet, it is also lightness and airiness and a feeling of complete balance.

Yes, there are the sleep issues and the jealousy - which we've so far kept at bay but are sure will rear its ugly head at some point - and the extra body to feed, bathe, dress and comfort. There are our octopus arms, Andrea and I, as we stealthily pass one child to the other along our parenting conveyor belt. Pick up baby, bathe baby, pass for dressing, bathe other, use one arm to stir dinner, place baby down on play mat for the 5 good minutes it gives for dressing the other child...and so on. (I said it when Sofia was born, and I repeat it with double the zeal again now: I don't know how single parents do it. The organization, the care, the love it takes -- the panic at those times I'm alone at only having 2 hands...)

But there are also those moments when we observe them together. When Samina first felt the cold sea water on her feet and Sofia cheered her on, as enthusiastic as if she were the one having the experience.

Observing Sofia playing peek-a-boo with a hysterical little Samina, all the love and admiration a little being could possibly hold in those two little eyes, for her sister and her sister alone.

Big Sister. Little Sister. I see them and I see their futures. The fights and the secrets. The little one emulating the big one, the big one proudly teaching the little one the ropes. 

People, of course, ask me how it's going with two. If it's double (or triple) the work. And I always take pause and seriously consider this question, because the answer is not what I'd expected it to be. My answer is: no. It is easier. Maybe because I find it less boring? Because I have more experience this time around? Because we're getting a bit more sleep now? Whatever the reason, our household feels complete now. It honestly feels like we were, all three of us, just waiting for little Samina to get here and complete us in our perfectly imperfect family circle.