Once a year, for four days, my oldest daughters are the same age. No, this is not a witty riddle. The truth is, they were born only 361 days apart.  When I arrived home from the hospital after giving birth to my second daughter, I threw a birthday party for my oldest who was turning one. Everyone thought I’d lost my mind, but I guess I’d just accepted this concept as normal somewhere after the shock had worn off that I was going to be a mom of “Irish Twins.” (Irish Twins is the unofficial name for siblings who are born within the same year.)

I don’t remember much about those first few years with the “twins.” I’ve forgotten how much work it was just to get to the grocery store or to eat a meal without someone on my lap. I’ve forgotten that I didn’t get a full night of sleep for years and years. Or the endless months I changed the diapers on two sets of cheeks. I also don’t remember the faces of the strangers who would comment on my young family, but I haven’t forgotten their less-than-supportive looks and comments. If I had a nickel for every time someone stopped me at the store and said, “You’ve sure got your hands full,” I’d be a millionaire.  (Just a note to all people who’ve said that: Stop saying that to people. It’s not helpful!)

I do remember many days where I’d watch my husband leave for work and I desperately wanted to grab onto his leg and beg him not to leave me. I do remember having a meltdown when buying a double stroller. I figured it was a royal waste of $100 since I couldn’t imagine ever leaving the house alone with two babies.

Those first few years were a blur that has now faded into some of the best years imaginable as the girls have grown closer than I’ve ever seen two sisters become. They even shared their own language for years that no one understood but the two of them. My husband and I watch them some days and marvel at the close relationship they share. They share everything from birthday parties and friends to clothes and books. They are each other’s best friend and worst enemy at the same time. But it’s something I’m not sure many siblings experience. We always joke that they’ll have to marry understanding spouses someday who won’t be jealous of their close ties but instead will embrace them.