“They don’t love you like this when they’re older.” It’s 7:30 am. I’m sitting in bed, beside my slumbering 8-month-old daughter. I'm up writing this post, though technically I’ve been up since 4:42 am when she first cried out in the early morning darkness. There is baby monitor in the babies’ area, which is essentially pointless because we share the one wall that exists in our 800 sq ft condo. There is no door to the twins’ area, only three panels of curtains that we recently installed, which is why I call it an “area” vs. a nursery.[...]
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