The twins turn one this week. I thought I'd be delighted that their first year was behind us, that we were on our way to more sleep and proud of the robust little toddlers we'd raised. Instead I find myself more pensive. Breastfeeding is winding down, and although the twins are very nearly sleeping through the night, I feel like we are staring down an even tougher year as the twins get more mobile and our lives more harried.

Since I've gone back to work, the second half of the twins' first year has flown by. During the week, I'm lucky if I see the kids for an hour in the morning and an hour at night before they head to bed. I find myself treasuring the moments they cry for me and wave to me, arms extended through the cat door. I have to remind myself that this has been a tremendous gift. For many years, I never thought I'd have more children. I never thought I'd get to breastfeed, make baby food, or even change diapers again.

There are moments I consistently love -- their daily baths, their indomitable cheerfulness in the morning. There's a flock mentality to raising twins that makes baby-raising easier. For example, they submit to mealtimes and bedtimes without question. And though I have less time to understand every aspect of their little mysterious personalities, I marvel at how unique they are. My son is the most charming person I've ever met, with radar detection for whatever is most dangerous in the room. My daughter has been fiercely independent from the day she was born (or even in utero), constantly daring us to underestimate her.

One thing I didn't expect in the first year was how much attention twins attract. We can hardly go to the drugstore without getting stopped by someone who has questions for us or wants to relay a twins anecdote from her own life. The twins have made many friends: a local jeweler, a set of eight-year old twin "mentors," and probably many others in our community while I'm at work. I wonder if this public attention and friendship gathering will continue or wane, as the babies become, well, kids.

The twins love Coach T and me. But they really adore their big sister. She makes them laugh and carries them around the house like rag dolls. They delight in her dancing. Her name is the first word out of their mouths each morning. She makes them toast and cuts up bananas for breakfast on the weekends. They love to sneak into her room and steal her shoes. As she goes to middle school next year and gets more distracted by her studies and her peers, I hope she'll still have plenty of time to spend with them.

Happy first birthday, Twin A and Twin B. You are the cherries on my sundae. And although I usually can't even go to the bathroom without one of you crying outside of the door, I wouldn't have it any other way.