I struggle to put on my lime green and blue Saucony sneakers while holding Rachel. We are listening to the new Death Cab for Cutie record and she is slowly closing her eyes, teasing me with sleep. I wonder how cool or lame I am when I inventory these cultural references. Not that it matters. But it is funny to think about. Am I the hip young mom that I want to be?

Jeff and I are struggling a little with the fact that we like one girl better than the other right now. I will not tell you who. But it is a fact and we whisper about it when the babies aren't around. All the twin parenting books tell you to talk about it. So we do. The books also say that this situation will flip flop over the months and years and not to feel bad about it. But we do. We are also spending a good amount of time discussing whether or not we think the girls are identical. They look so different to us now. We are also watching lots of TV on DVD and for some reason Dave Chapelle stand up. Chapelle makes Jeff and I talk like a stand up comedian. Calling each other MoFo and other things that I won't mention. We do this and laugh and laugh. Sometimes we don't laugh, usually in the middle of the night. Sometimes in the middle of the night we get frustrated. But everytime the girls sleep for at least 3 hours and we steal that time for sleep, too, we are all better.

It is a post-rainy afternoon and we open all the windows in the solarium. I wrap the girls in blankets and put them in their crib, removing the positioners that once kept them in their own sections of the crib. I want the girls to interact, and they do. They throw their arms around, randomly touching hands and faces. They seem free. One of the windows doesn't have a screen and Jeff tells me that a bird might fly in. This isn't Six Feet Under, I laugh. I do take note of the screen because I won't want a baby to fall out. I stand in front of it, looking down 7 floors and smelling someone cooking something out there somewhere. My pants are too big and my shoes are super cool and my babies are sleeping and I, too, seem free. For this moment. Soon there will be another feeding and some gas pains. Those things, too, bring freedom. Just a different kind.