If I were to describe the sensation of caring for newborns twins I would liken it to that old circus favourite of juggling plates. I got the giggles the other night as I cooked dinner, ran to settle Arlo, settled Arlo, went back to dinner, went to settle Tavish, settled Tavish, went back to dinner, back to Arlo, rock Tavish, put puzzle piece in for Edie, settle Arlo, stir dinner, jiggle Arlo and Tavish etc... I got a fleeting vision of myself in natty lycra circus ensemble running down a row of spinning plates ... just making it spin again before it fell of it's rod - as the crowd oohs and aahs marvelling at my great skill and prowess in lycra (and immense bravery, given post-birth saggy bits revealed by aforementioned lycra). 
I'm still finding it humorous... will let you know when all plates fall at same time and I rip the arse out of my lycra suit ... figuratively speaking... NB.. all plates are proof of the obsessive fetish I have for vintage crockery sourced from markets, op shops, relatives, gifts and wierd ass garage sales where they won't cough up ...
