That's called sarcasm, people. I am soooo far from perfect, and even further from most perfect. Sometimes I'm astounded by that distance. I mean, I have a zillion younger siblings and babysat 10,000 kids and was even a nanny - twice! I guess I thought that I would be something of a saint when it came to the patience required for my own kids. Was having twins my punishment for that kind of thinking? Sometimes it seems so, even though I wouldn't trade either one of them for the world. They're a handful, but oh so worth it. I've realized that I have not given Belly and The Bug proper introductions and I probably should do that since this blog was named after them and they consume the vast, vast majority of my time and thinking.

As I mentioned in a previous post, Belly and The Bug were born about seven weeks early. They were the tiniest little babies I'd ever seen at 4 pounds 2 ounces each. They spent their first three weeks charming the pants off the nurses in the NICU. They weren't sick, but rather they were still too "young" to have their suck-swallow-breathe coordination down. I guess they finally grew tired of my daily desperate pleas to drink their bottles because, overnight, they just did it. And then they came home.

Holy crap! We had twins! As in, two squawking newborns who cried so loud that if you stood on the sidewalk in front of our house, it sounded like we were seriously neglecting them. I called the pediatrician soooooo often. And the advice nurse. Even at twenty bucks a pop on the weekends. "Hi. It's Rachael. My babies are crying again. I just nursed them every other hour for the last 14 hours. I am so effing tired. What should I do? Help. Me." But God forbid my mother or mother-in-law tell me what to do. Ohhhhhhh nooooo. We had company for the first two solid months of the girls' lives and I was so sick of everyone telling me how I should do things. I was the mom and I was in charge. But in the middle of the night, I was more than willing to pay for sound advice that I’m sure either mother would’ve been happy to impart. I suppose it just sounded less bossy to me coming from a “professional.”

Well, we all survived the first year and, I’m proud to say, Belly and The Bug have actually thrived. They’ve gone from teeny little preemies to being in the 75-90th percentile for both weight and height for ALL babies their age – making them officially not preemie anymore. And they are cool little people to boot. They're both funny and fun!

The Bug was the firstborn and has always been about a month ahead of Belly developmentally – sitting, crawling, walking, telling dirty jokes, etc. She's extremely outgoing and is pretty much the life of the party wherever we go. Belly is a little more reserved and seems more like a baby. She's also about the most loving little kid I've ever met. Seriously. She's a hugger and a kisser and a cuddler - the likes of which you've never seen before. And she'll be aggressive about it. What's that? You don't want to get smothered in wet baby kisses right now? Well suck it! It's happening! Belly will not be denied doling out her slobbery love!

They are especially fun to watch when they snuggle together. I’d say at least 4 or 5 times a day they hug and kiss each other and giggle like crazy about it. Of course, they will be horrified when I tell them about it in later years because they’re kinda making out, but I’m not about to tell them to stop kissing. It is what it is.

The girls are a little over 14-months-old right now and while totally adorable, they are sometimes holy terrors. Like right now. I can hear The Bug crying and crying as Dude is trying to put them to sleep. She's been fussy all night even though she’s been engaged with toys and books, held, bathed, given teething tabs and a sippy cup of warm milk. She. Just. Won’t. Stop. And Belly chimes in from time to time just because she can. Sigh. [Note: I went upstairs after the girls were asleep and Dude told me that he had been lying on the bed, shirtless, with a baby on either side to get them to sleep. While The Bug sobbed away inconsolably, Belly was blowing fart noises up and down his side.]

The Bug thinks it's funny when I tell her no. And the more firm I am in telling her No!, the funnier it is. Yesterday she literally was doubled over in laughter as I repeatedly reprimanded her for trying to bite me. And I cannot get them to say mama. It's daddy this and daddy that all the livelong day but not a mama anywhere. The Bug will say book and up and butt (don't ask); Belly will even say e-i-e-i-o. But forget about mama. They laugh and say daddy instead. It's totally maddening. I wish I had more patience with them when they're biting/whining/repeatedly taking toys from each other. It's just constantly, constantly, constantly happening and I get so tired of it. Every day I say to myself, "They will never be this little again" in an attempt to feel nothing but love for them. Sometimes it works and sometimes I consider locking myself in the closet for awhile.

But they really are cute. Need proof? Here you go...

Dang I love those girls.