I used to think the hardest part of raising twins was the exhaustion. The kind that turns time into a blur of bottles, diapers, and three-hour stretches of sleep if you’re lucky. But I was wrong. The real shock came the night I opened the nanny-cam app and saw something that made my blood run cold. My boys, Liam and Noah, were eleven months old—two tiny hurricanes in matching pajamas. If you’ve never had twins, imagine sleep deprivation becoming part of your personality. I hadn’t slept more than three consecutive hours in nearly a year, and I’d stopped remembering what...
Continues…