"So, what else is on your list?" Chandler asks me, his face a little flushed and sweaty.

"Ummm…" I look down at the notepad in my hand, tapping my pen against my lips. "We did the kitchen, our bedroom and bathroom, the nursery, and most of the living room. I think that's probably about all we can do for the day. The only other thing on my list is 'hold the babies.'"

"That's not on there," he says, looking over my shoulder.

"But don't you think it should be?"

He nods in agreement as I toss my pad on the couch and we hurry over to the bassinet; the twins are sleeping peacefully, and I can't bring myself to risk disturbing their slumber. I feel Chandler's arm go around my shoulders and I lean in to him, relaxing against his side.

"God, this is weird," he says quietly.

"What's that?"

"We're parents. We're actually responsible for the lives of other tiny little people."

I wrap my arm around his waist and nod—I guess it is a little weird, maybe even more so because we didn't have the usual pregnancy period to adjust to the idea of it all. Throw in the added loop of getting two babies instead of one and…yeah, it's kind of odd.

Two days ago, we were a childless couple living in an apartment in Manhattan; now we're the parents of twins living in a house in the suburbs. I guess this qualifies as a little more than weird.

"They're so beautiful," I whisper, even though I know I shouldn't whisper when they're sleeping, that I should be speaking in a normal voice so they don't become light sleepers. I'm just in such awe of them that I can't help it. I've never seen anything more beautiful.

"They're perfect," he answers, and I give him a little squeeze. It's hard to believe that just a couple of years ago, the thought of parenthood would send this guy screaming into the night. To be fair, even though I loved the idea of having a baby, at that point I don't think I was completely ready, either. But here he is, staring down at our children, completely rapt. "I never knew it was possible to love someone this much this fast. It actually hurts."

I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. "It's like they were meant to be ours. I know that probably sounds stupid, but I just feel like we were supposed to find them. They're ours, Chandler. It doesn't matter that we didn't make them, they belong to us."

He gives me a little tug, moving me in front of him. His arms wrap around me as he rests his chin on my head. "I still say Jack has your eyes."

I let out a watery laugh. "Maybe."

"I think I could look at them forever."

I nod in agreement, watching as their little chests rise and fall. It's amazing how something so simple can be so captivating.

"Can you tell which one is which yet just by looking at them?"

I sigh and hang my head. "No."

He laughs a little and gives me a squeeze. "I can't either. I just met them the other day."

"Part of me feels like I've known them forever," I whisper. There's a large part of me that know it sounds unbelievably corny and impossible, but that doesn't stop the rest of me from believing it's true. I've known these two little people less than forty-eight hours and it feels like they've been a part of my life forever. I already can't imagine a world that doesn't include them.

Chandler was right when he said it hurts; it's a good hurt, but my heart honestly feels like it could explode at any minute.

He kisses the side of my head and we sigh at the same time. One of the twins—I'm pretty sure Jack—yawns in his sleep, tiny baby noises escaping him, and I feel myself melt.

"This is literally all they do," Chandler says quietly, "but I'll be damned if it's not the most fascinating thing in the world."

I nod in agreement—there's so much more that needs to be done to the new house to make it livable, more that needs to be done before we go to sleep tonight, but it doesn't feel like any of it matters.

"How much is on your list that we were supposed to get done today?"

I scoff a little. "Please. The whole house would have been done today if they hadn't been born early. Do you honestly think I'd be able to sleep knowing there were boxes to be unpacked?"

"And now?"

I shrug a little. "Doesn't seem that important. We've got the basics set up; everything will still be here tomorrow."

He gives me a little squeeze. "Has mommy-hood mellowed you?"

I actually have to stop and think about that for a moment. "It's possible. It's also possible that I'm in shock from the last few days. Maybe the old me will kick back in a few days from now. Don't know. And right now, I don't care. These little faces seem much more important."

We're silent again for a while. Erica—I think—opens her eyes for a few moments, taking in her surroundings before fluttering shut once more. "Do you think we're letting them sleep too much?" I ask suddenly.

"Really? You're asking me? I know less about being a parent than you do. How much is too much?"

"I have no idea." I feel a sense of sadness mixed with panic wash over me for a few moments. While some of this stuff has come along very naturally, instinctually, it's alarming how much I just don't know.

"Calm down, Monica," Chandler tells me, probably able to feel my heart pounding all of a sudden. "I think there's a lot of stuff we're not supposed to know yet. We've only been parents for a couple of days; we're probably going to mess things up, some of us more than others. We'll get the hang of it. Jack and Erica won't judge us."

"You're right." I lean my head back against his chest. "I know. I just hate having to guess at this stuff."

"I know you do, babe. But I don't think it matters how many books we read or how many other kids we helped take care of before this—there's no instruction manual."

"Kind of makes it surprising that of all the people in the world, I would want to do this so desperately."

He chuckles; I can feel it rumble through my back. "Maybe. You're just going to have to learn how to let stuff go, I guess. And judging by you being okay with the house not being completely ready today, I think you're already on your way."

"Priorities," I say simply, and I feel him nod.

"Priorities." He's quiet for a moment, though I can practically hear him thinking. "Our kids are really cute. I mean, I know that all babies are beautiful, blah blah blah, but I think ours are the fairest of them all."

"You're definitely right," I agree quickly and wholeheartedly. "They are absolutely beautiful." I lean forward a little, delicately moving a blanket out of the way so I could see who's who. Since most of the clothing we bought in preparation for this was pretty gender-neutral, we've had to improvise. We stuck Jack in a dinosaur onesie—a gift from Ross, naturally—and Erica has a mouse on hers. I'm relieved to see that my mental calculations were correct and that the baby I thought was Jack is actually Jack. It was probably just dumb luck, but I'm going to let myself believe my maternal instincts are already kicking in.

I straighten the blanket, carefully running a finger over Jack's cheek, then do the same for Erica. Amazingly, neither of them flinch.

"What time are your parents going to be here tomorrow?" Chandler asks.

"They said to call when we're ready. I think they wanted to be here now, but I thought we could take some time to just be the four of us, you know? We'll put them to work tomorrow."

"It'll be their first time meeting the twins—how much work do you think they'll get done?"

"Even if they just handle childcare, it'll be something we don't have to worry about."

"I guess you're right."

"Hey, did you call your parents?"

"Yeah, I left them some messages. They both keep weird hours, so we probably won't hear from them until tomorrow at best."

"You think they'll want to come out and meet the twins?"

"Actually, yes. I've gotten the impression they're both very eager to be grandparents. Can you just imagine Helena Handbasket on stage, talking about her grandchildren?"

It's not so hard to imagine, actually. "I think your father would pass around pictures proudly, to tell you the truth. And your mom will probably brag about it to Leno next time she's on."

"At any rate, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. I'm sure my parents will be as wonderfully overbearing as yours are sure to be."

"We'll just have to remind ourselves that they mean well."

"But if your mother ever attempts to treat Erica the way she's treated you…"

I pat his hand comfortingly. "Over my dead body. Hers, too."

Jack's eyes open suddenly, his little limbs moving under his blanket. His face turns red and scrunches up just before he lets out a wail that breaks my heart. "Ohhhh, what's the matter, sweetie?" The voice that comes out of me is one I've never heard before, though one I imagine I'll be using for quite some time. "Are you hungry?" I reach for him, carefully taking him into my arms. I maneuver around his blanket, checking his diaper and finding it dry. I look over at Chandler and see Erica is already in his arms, her eyes wide open.

"I feel like she's going to be the troublemaker," he says, his eyes never leaving her.

"Daddy's little girl," I say as my body sways involuntarily, Jack's cries quieting a bit as we head into the kitchen.

Chandler looks up at me and grins. "Definitely daddy's girl. I'm fully prepared to be the stereotypical father waiting in the living room with a shotgun the first time some guy picks her up for a date."

I reach for the bottles as Chandler reaches for the formula, each of us trying to get the hang of doing things one-handed. "You're going to embarrass her, aren't you? Stand in the doorway in your bathrobe and wave goodbye to her or something?"

"You betcha. Anything to keep the boys away."

I shake my head even as I smile, the two of us working in tandem to get bottles ready. He never expressed a preference about which gender he wanted, but I always kind of figured he'd rather have a daughter, though I don't know why. But going by how protective he is already, I can tell I was right on the money.

Amazingly, the bottles do the trick, the babies nodding off again before long, though this time we keep them in our arms.

"I want to say this is easier than I expected," Chandler whispers, "but I know that's jinxing it."

"I think the first few days are calmer than the rest of their lives—it's to lull you into a false sense of security."

We wander back into the living room, and I marvel at how much space we have now.

"It's really quiet out here," he says suddenly. "I mean, despite the wailing baby noises."

"I know. There's no traffic, there's no one around." A thought occurs to me. "Do you realize that for the first time since we've been together, we have actual privacy? We don't live across the hall from anyone; our friends can't just wander in and out when they feel like it. It's just us."

"Well, that's a scary thought," he says, teasingly. "Think we'll be able to manage it?"

"Honestly? I think it'll be an adjustment. I think it'll take some getting used to. But I also think they'll be out here a lot once they realize how nice it is."

Slowly, we walk upstairs with the twins in our arms, headed toward the nursery. It's barebones right now—we did think we had another few weeks to get ready, and neither of us wanted to buy a lot of stuff and store it in our apartment only to have to move it again in a couple of weeks. Hopefully tomorrow we'll have a chance to get to a store. Hopefully, we'll actually be able to find a store.

Carefully, we put them in their bassinet, Chandler reaching out to boop their noses carefully.

"I think we might have successfully completed our first full day of parenthood," he tells me. "One down, a lifetime to go."

I chuckle quietly. "Think we'll be able to peel ourselves away from them for a little while? It's probably not healthy to stare at them all night while they sleep."

"Yeah, that probably leaves the realm of 'attentive parent' and goes somewhere very unhealthy." Reluctantly, we turn to leave the room, Chandler turning on the monitor as we go. A few steps later, we're in our room, the other end of the monitor crackling softly, waiting to alert us to any change in Jack and Erica.

I feel his arms slide around my waist as he kisses my neck, my head automatically drifting to one side to accommodate him, moaning softly.

"What are the odds of me getting sex tonight?" he asks, his voice muffled against my skin.

"Oh, honey. I want to—I really want to…"

He sighs, his enthusiasm waning a bit. "But?"

"I'm just so tired. Neither of us has gotten any sleep the last couple of nights. I don't even know how you have the energy."

"Seeing you as a mother turns me on," he whispers, moving to the other side of my neck, and I feel my body start to respond to his ministrations. I turn in his arms, wrapping my arms around his neck, my lips finding his, and we melt together for a few minutes in a slow, sweet kiss. "It just seems wrong to not christen our new house on our first night, you know?"

"Tell you what," I say, punctuating my words with kisses. "I can promise you some making out and some under the shirt action. If I don't fall asleep, I'm yours."

"Challenge accepted," he answers, picking me up suddenly by the backs of my thighs before we fall onto our bed, his lips attacking mine.

I smile against his mouth; maybe I'm not that tired after all.