One of the most challenging parts of being a twin parent are the times when you’re outnumbered. When my husband is around, things are much different. Each twin has a parent to tend to their needs, and crying fits rarely happen. Achieving bedtime with two parents is a breeze, as each little one gets perfectly undivided attention and cuddles. With the two of us on parent duty, I’m up for adventures out in public; we even went out for a meal with the twins recently.

Out on the town alone with them is another thing altogether. It takes a lot of preparation–mental and otherwise–to do it. A quick trip to the store is one thing, but I think a big win will be spending an afternoon at the mall with the twins, on my own. My idea of “big win” has really changed since having kids. There are certain “Mommy and Me” groups I’ll never attend, like swimming for example. I don’t think there’s a twin mom hack for that.

When it’s two on one at home, it can sometimes be unpleasant, but there I don’t feel the weight of judgemental eyes, questioning how things are getting done and if everyone is okay. It’s just me and my two little fussy-butts and we get through it together.

On weekdays the babies don’t get my undivided attention very often, and they sometimes have to wait their turn, which is a skill most people don’t learn until they’re much older. Occasionally, a baby is left crying on the floor for longer than I’d like to admit, or one is left in the highchair to wait “patiently” while the other gets a fresh diaper and clean onesie. Keeping two tired babies entertained while waiting for the next scheduled nap can be tricky, but I’ve mastered two-for-one versions of “The Wheels on the Bus” and the “Eensie Weensie Spider”. At least I have two hands. Now that the twins are on the verge of crawling, I’m set about intensively baby-proofing of our house. I’ve only got one set of eyes and it’s nearly impossible to stop a baby from going down a staircase while I’ve got the other on a change table mid-wipe.

I’ve found, though, that there is an unexpected benefit of being outnumbered. It has become perhaps one of the best parts of being a twin mom; I know how resilient and self-sufficient my kids are already. Capable of self-soothing and curious about everything around them, they hardly need me to entertain them anymore. They’ve both gotten quite good at playing alone or with each other.

What it comes down to is that close-enough has to be okay when you’re outnumbered. Two relatively clean, fed, and well-rested children is more than enough to call any day a success. I suppose that’s the real perk of being outnumbered: giving up on perfection.