Notes on Twins Vol. 2 - Twelve Weeks

First published on Apr 15, 2026

Quick housekeeping before we dive in. I've started a Substack dedicated to fatherhood writing. This piece is cross-posted there. If that's your kind of thing, check it out.

Twelve weeks. An arbitrary number for non-parents but for those with young children it is touted as an important milestone; when things become a little more sane, when you begin to adjust to your new life.

It has only been 34 days since my previous piece but a lot has changed. Still three under three. Still intense. Still two babies competing for attention with a toddler. Still wonderful. And...

Still a celebrity Going shopping. Going for a walk. At a café. At a playgroup. You cannot avoid being the centre of attention. People cannot help be drawn to twins. It doesn't get old. You never tire of swapping stories. Parents of singletons genuinely can't understand how you could possibly deal with two. Parents of twins can't understand how you could deal with twins AND a toddler. We look at parents of even larger families in the same way I imagine a Private ranked infantryman looks at the Special Forces.

Kinda heavy I remember about this time with our son, Elijah, becoming very aware of how heavy he became. Our bodies felt like a week behind in their strength development as he grew so rapidly. Twins, somewhat obviously, are double the weight. Holding one in each arm is a serious workout. The first eight or so weeks were fine but sometime around the five-kilogram mark I became very aware of their weight.

I like to go for long walks with them in the mega-pram^[1], which weighs a lot in and of itself. It feels closer to a sledge push at the gym than a leisurely stroll; by the end of the four mile hilly loop my legs burn with exertion.

Smiles The absolute heart-melting joy of seeing their first smiles. Twins are rarely in exact developmental sync so we've had the pleasure of seeing it twice in quick succession. They are yet to obviously recognise each other's presence but I've been told that is equally wonderful.

I got lazy I said last time that "Proper Planning and Preparation Prevents Piss-Poor Performance." You prepare, you go out, everything is fine. You prepare, you go out, everything is fine. You go out, everything is fine. I got lazy. Why spend so much time preparing when everything always works out? Well, then it doesn't. I forgot the bag. Nappies. Wipes. Changes of clothes. Water. Snacks. Everything that could have gone wrong, went wrong. When things have gone sideways, I have felt the creeping hand of baby-induced agoraphobia. We have what we need in the house. The routine is established. But like with any setback, it is essential to get back on the horse and stride forward. Things have started to become a little easier, but there is no time for complacency.

Elijah is a dream Our two-and-a-half-year-old toddler has been nothing short of incredible. As he grows into his own mischievous, intelligent personality he has simultaneously developed an affection and loving tenderness towards his new, loud siblings. Seemingly no jealousy; he just wants to help as much as possible. When I think I couldn't love him any more, some small phrase or action stretches my heart further and further.

The fog begins to lift We aren't yet sleeping eight hours or eating three hot meals a day...but the initial insanity has subsided. A semblance of routine has been established. We sleep a little more. We know, within reason, what each baby wants at any one time. It's still hard; there are tears, rest isn't the norm and a new challenge presents itself nearly every day; but the boulder feels lighter than it did fifty days ago, and we've found a rhythm in the pushing.