Poem

This poem was on a handout at the Whatcom Mother of Multiples playgroup last month and I thought I'd share. I think it's a good description of how most mothers of twins feel.

There's two to wash, there's two to dry,

There's two who argue, there's two who cry.

One's in the mud having a ball,

The other holds a crayon, another mark on the wall.

Some days seem endless, my patience grows thin.

Why was I chosen to be a mother of twins?

The answer comes clear at the end of each day,

As I tuck them in bed and to myself I say,

There's two to kiss, there's two to hug,

And best of all, there's two to love!

Author: Unknown