Our twins have finally turned three. I clearly remember it was the goal that kept me going with the two babies in diapers and the firstborn in potty training. Zombied out from waking up every half hour (yes, we have records to prove it), either to feed one of the babes or change the sheets of the third one, I kept repeating my mantra: 'If you'll just make it thru the next three years, life will be so much easier.'

We were truly terrified when we learned we were expecting twins. 'Multiples in the family!' 'Two babies!' 'How wonderful!' 'I always wanted to have twins!' We forced smiles when hearing the exuberant cries of relatives and friends. We tried to look happy and brave, secretly feeling anxious, worried, shocked, even a little angry. Our doctor had assured us that 'transfering two embroys of that quality will definitely not result in twins'. I guess she was in for a surprise also.

9 weeks, 6 days

It was a carefully considered decision to try out for baby number two. The first one, as desperately wanted and deeply loved as she was, had completely drained us during her first year and a half. She was colicky from 4pm to 11pm every night, was not too keen on taking naps, impossible to get to settle down unless somebody danced her to sleep with a weird pattern around the upstairs hallway. She was extremely clingy with me. The only way I could dream of getting a break (or try to take a nap) was during weekends when her daddy would steal her away downstairs and let her cry it out in the sauna so I couldn't hear her wailing.

I know, you're thinking we spoiled her. But we didn't. We just tried everything to try and sooth her, to get her to sleep better and to get some rest for ourselves in the process.

Maybe by now you can understand why two babies were not what we had ordered, or even what the doctor ordered. Nevertheless, it is what we got. Miraculously, after first three challenging months, they started sleeping thru the night. We were expecting the fun to stop any day. Every morning we woke up and congratulated ourselves on finally having produced babies who can sleep. Of course, our luck ended, but it did last for about nine months.

Since then, we have been waking up pretty much every single night at least once. Usually because of the third one (who turned out NOT to be the charm). Gentle, smiling, always happy and satisfied as a baby... but a true challenge as a toddler. Supersensitive, particular, independent, strong-willed, fussy, intense, a light sleeper. Impossibly active all the time. The other two will happily sit and watch their video, sit around and read books, or engage themselves in play for long periods. Not the third one. This high-need child (read The Baby Book by Dr. Sears and ignore others) is on the run constantly, looking for places to explore, things to take apart, or just some mischief to make. Maybe just one tiny book to rip to shreds? A little bit of window washing with the garden hose?

Sometimes, when looking for explanations or just some comfort I feel like resorting to the old generalization of differences between boys and girls. It just so happens that those stereotypes ring true in this family. And yes, sometimes I find myself thinking: what if there had been just two?