Everytime I try to write, someone wakes on a velvety Boppy pillow from a deep sleep. Every free minute that I get, I have to choose my activity wisely. I am torn between what I SHOULD do and what I WANT to do. Breast pump or blog? Nap or work on baby books? Make a ninja necklace or prepare bottles for the next feeding? It is an unending question of priorities. I am not upset about this, but I do wish that I could be sharing this time with you a little more. I almost think that next week, when my adventure with the girls alone begins, I might have more time to write. I don't know how that is, but I think it will be true.

Today, I was sitting here pumping breast milk and I looked around to see 3 other people helping me with babies (my mom, Jeff and my friend, Eileen). I said, "this time next week, it will just be me". I thought I would say that with fear, but I didn't. It was just a statement of fact. That is what my emotional state is right now. I live and feel life in statements of fact. Fact: I have twin newborns. Fact: I do not sleep. Fact: the breastfeeding isn't working yet. Fact: I am eating way too much junk food. I can't get upset about any of my facts because, well, they are just that, facts.

Today, my friend Eileen asked me how I am doing emotionally. It was so great of her to ask because, well, she really wanted to know. That is what I love about her. I was kinda surprised to tell her that I am not doing badly at all. I thought I would be a perfect candidate for post-partum depression, but here I am, living with my facts and trying to love them. Don't get me wrong, this is so damn hard. Last weekend, when Jeff's mom was here, I got to sleep through the night for the first time in a while. When I woke up at 7 to change Rachel's diaper, I was totally wowed at just how beautiful she was. I was just floored by her tiny nose and thick Elvis hair. I don't think I have ever missed anyone more. Fact: sleep matters.

I have a couch full of wiggling babies right now. I wonder when someone will begin to meow. Anya just opened one eye, like a submarine, she is. Rachel's face is red, I think she may be pooping. These are my facts.