Today, me and Mommy went shopping for the babies. She says that they can use my old crib for a while, but then they'll be too big to share, so we went to a store, and she talked to a man in a funny apron about getting another one, and a woman in another apron let me try them out, so that I could tell Mommy which one was most comfortable. We wanted the babies to be comfy.

It's really hot. Mommy said maybe we could go swimming later, but she said that the pool's really crowded in late July, and she doesn't want to get elbowed in the tummy, or anything. She said that maybe Daddy could take me after work, or maybe someone else would want to.

After we went to the crib store, we went to a clothes store, and Mommy showed me some clothes like I wore when I was a baby. They were so tiny! They were the size of the clothes that I put on my dollies. But she says that there isn't very much room in her tummy, and because there's two of them, the babies might be even smaller than I was! We bought them some diapers, and two outfits each. Mommy let me help pick, and I chose two blue outfits, and two purple ones.

She says that we can buy more clothes when it's closer to the time that the babies are coming, but for now, this is all we're getting. I wanted to buy more, because I like shopping for my baby brothers or sisters, but she said that we had to wait until later, because I would want to shop even more then. I didn't really understand, but I said okay, because Daddy told me it was real important not to make Mommy too upset right now.

He also showed me how to use Mommy's cell phone, and told me that if Mommy ever told me to, I should call him or Max on it, right away. He told me that the babies might need help sometime, and that other people would think they could help, but really, only uncle Max or Michael could do that. He gave me a little card that was just paper, but now has hard plastic all over it, and inside the plastic is Max and Michael's phone numbers, Mommy's, Daddy's, Liz and Maria's cell phone numbers, and our home telephone number. I don't need help for that, though, I already know our phone number.

After we went shopping for a new crib and the baby diapers and clothes, we ran a bunch of boring errands. Then, Mommy went to the baby doctor, which was kind of neat, but then they made me wait outside, and it was really boring. Mommy says that she's going to the baby doctor to make Grandma and Grandpa happy, but she doesn't want to. But then she told me she'd never said that.

Grownups can be confusing.

Now, though, we're going home, and Maria is coming to take me to clay class. I get to spend a whole hour playing with the clay, and making stuff, and when we're done, I get to put my name on it, and bake it, and then I get to paint it the next week, and take it home! Except it has to be cooked again, after I paint it, so it's a long time before I can actually take it home.

Mommy said that to be a good big sister to the new babies, I'm going to have to show them how to be good people. She says I'm going to have to teach them to share, and how to say 'please', and how to wipe their faces after they eat at the table. She says that her and Daddy will teach them, too, but that I'll be real important, because she says babies learn what's right by watching other people. And she says that babies watch their big sisters and brothers a lot.

Mommy and Daddy also told me that when the babies are born, Max and Michael are going to take me out to choose a new big sister toy! She said I can have anything I want, as long as it costs less than the money she's going to give me. She says that it might take a while for the babies to be born, so I shouldn't be worried if I have to stay with Max and Michael all day. She packed me a bag, too, in case I have to stay overnight. She says that babies decide when they want to be born, and nothing she does will be able to hurry them along.

Right after we got home, Maria called and asked if I wanted to go swimming after clay class with her and Michael. Mommy said I could go, so I'm going to get together some floaty toys and rings and stuff to take with me, and put my swimsuit in a bag so that I can change after class. Mommy told me to take my sunscreen, but I hate it, because it's all greasy and yucky. Maria says she'll rub it in really well for me, but I still don't want to.

But I'm not supposed to make Mommy upset, and I don't want the babies to get hurt. So, I said I would wear it. Maybe Maria won't make me.

Isabel's taking a year off from her job as a librarian, so she's only working part-time now. Kyle's been trying to convince her to stop teaching, too, but she's determined not to stop working that job until the little ones actually put in their appearance. It makes it easier to get Mary taken care of, but Isabel still needs her space, so I have a standing date to take her to her clay class, and then off somewhere on Tuesday afternoons, so that Iz can rest.

Today, Michael's coming with me. We don't see as much of each other as we'd like, because I work a night job, and he works usually a day job, but for a while now, he's been working about half nights and half days, so he and I have connected more. Maybe we'll get some time to talk today. Mary's a good kid, and she can pretty much entertain herself, usually.

Right now, I'm thanking the lord for the darkly tinted windows in minivans.

Yes, I know it's a juvenile thing to do, have sex at any possible turn, in any place, (like a minivan), but Michael and I never really got over the juvenile thing. We made it about to seventeen or so, and then we just stopped growing up. That's not to say that we can't take things seriously, Michael especially, but we still have fun. We're still the kind of wild and crazy that most people associate with being in high school.

I straighten my hair in the rearview mirror, Michael leaning his chin on my shoulder, and I take a moment to smile at him. God, it's amazing that we've been together this long. To the outside world, we seem to drive each other crazy, and indeed, often we do. But what the outside world doesn't realize, is that no matter how mad we get at each other, we never stop loving each other.

Now, Michael has a quick and very hot temper. I have a stubborn streak a mile wide, and an imagination and a half. Let's just say that we don't have the calmest marriage in the world. But it works. And that alone, shocks plenty of people. When I brought him to the five-year high school reunion this year, pretty much all of our classmates were shocked.

I look at my watch, and notice that it's time to go get Mary. "Do you want to come, or should I just go pick her up?" I ask, running a comb through the ends of my long hair for the last time.

Michael kisses me on the top of the head. It's his signature move, strictly Michael, and I love it. "I'll come."

We pile out of the car, locking it up and heading towards the art center. As we enter the room, the teacher comes and greets us. Mary, totally ensconced in her work, doesn't even look up. We all smile as we watch her work so seriously on this block of lumpy clay.

"Mary?" Her teacher calls. Mary still doesn't look up. "Mary, your aunt and uncle are here." That's what we tell people, because it minimizes confusion, and more people trust an aunt and uncle picking up a child, than a 'good friend'.

Mary's dark head shoot up, and she jumps from the table, running to us. "Maria!" She squeals. She holds up the lump of clay. "Look what I made!"

"It's beautiful, Mary." I have no idea what it is.

Michael bends down a bit. "Didn't notice me, huh Mary?" He asks her teasingly.

Mary turns to him. "You can see it too, Michael," She tells him.

He smiles at her. "Thanks."

I hold up her swimsuit. "Want to go to the pool?"

She grabs for it, but I pull it out of her reach. "Give the teacher your project, and wash your hands. Then we can go change."

She nods, and runs off to hand her clay to the female teacher, giving what looks like a nice, long list of instructions about it to her. The teacher holds a serious expression, and nods gravely though all of this, but looks over Mary's head and smiles at us as Mary finally runs off to wash her hands of the goopy clay.

We change pretty quickly, it's hot out and we all want to get to the pool. Mary's swimsuit is a one-piece in bright pink, with purple and blue patterns running over it. "We won't lose you in that," Michael jokes when he sees it.

My suit is more sedate, but a lot more revealing. It's a teal green two piece, not quite bikini. But it definitely shows some skin, and Michael looks me up and down, appraising me as I come out of the bathroom. I know he likes what he sees.

We head to the pool, and leave our stuff in the locker rooms. Michael changes there, into just a plain pair of black trunks. He still, to this day, doesn't like to be noticed, though I've told him time and again that all the girls staring at him are only admiring his body. I don't really get jealous, because he's uncomfortable with the attention, and somehow that makes it okay.

When he decides to ogle another woman, though, that's a different story. He can get in some pretty deep shit for looking at another woman when I'm around. At least, if he doesn't even bother to try and hide it. Liz convinced me years ago that guys look. It's just impossible for them not to. So, I've been trying not to get mad if he at least bothers to hide it.

We swim for most of the rest of the afternoon, though 'swim' may be the wrong word, since Mary most ran in the shallow part of the wading pool, and Michael and I splashed each other like kids. But we got wet, and we weren't so hot, so the purpose was achieved.

Getting sunscreen on that kid was a crazy experience, though.

I've always felt, since the day that Mary was born, that she was mine. It doesn't matter that there's no blood relation whatsoever. She grew in Isabel's belly, and anything that's Isabel's is precious to me. But a few months ago, when we realized we'd finally succeeded, that Isabel was pregnant, with my children, some kind of warm, electric shock went through me. It was the pleasantest sensation in the world.

I wouldn't give up Mary if the universe were at stake, but I'm going to treasure being the biological father of these little children, just the same.

What the 'gang' doesn't know is that Isabel and I have been trying for these children since the day Mary turned two. Iz didn't want two babies, and insisted that we wait for Mary to become a genuine toddler before we could throw the contraception out the window.

Ironic, now, that she's getting two babies anyway.

I know Isabel will be the best mother to these babies, and I want to be more of a father to them than I was to Mary when she was an infant. I tried, I really had, but living in separate houses didn't really afford me the best of abilities in terms of fatherly duty-type capabilities.

I don't think I'll be the best father in world, I'm not delirious. But I want to be the best father that I can possibly be, and I want to raise these kids right, because I want to be able to swear that I did all that was humanly possible for them, when I look back. I figure that I'm already partway there. I'm very happy with the way that we've raised Mary. I just want to continue the trend.

Isabel's two and a half months pregnant, and Max says that the babies feel about half-developed, which means they'll be in the world just about when we thought they would. We're just thanking God that they're healthy, at the moment.

I wish she would stop teaching. We know this pregnancy is precarious. But at the moment, I think that staying home all the time might actually be more stressful for Iz than working, so I haven't fought her decision. At least Michael and Maria and Max and Liz have managed to make themselves available to baby-sit Mary fairly often.

Mary's also back in school, which makes things a lot easier, too. She's in first grade, we're trying her out there, but if she's bored or not learning because it's too easy, she might skip it. We're loathe to have her skip another grade this young, though, because then the option isn't as available when she's older.

I look down at my watch, and notice that it's just about time for Mary to be getting home. I know the bus comes close to our house, but I still worry, so, on my occasional days off, I watch out the window, to make sure that she gets home safely. Isabel's meeting the bus every day, because she worries even more than I do.

Iz is minimizing her time in public as much as possible, because of possible suspicion about her stomach and it's amazing rate of growth, but if anyone asks, we're simply telling them that she started to show late, and she's making up for lost time. Her parents insist that she go to a prenatal physician, so we're switching doctors every month to keep them from noticing.

Abruptly, the phone on my desk rings. It's rare for me to be actually in the office, but when I am, I have a desk, and a phone, and a computer and everything. Being the Sheriff's pet certainly has it's plusses.

I pick up the phone, and lazily put it to my ear. "Roswell police department, this is Deputy Valenti. Can I help you?"

A timid little voice asks, "Daddy?"

I'm suddenly alert. "Mary?" She sounds scared.

"Daddy, Mommy told me to call you. She says that the babies are sick, and that she needs help."

I try to stay calm for my daughter's sake, but my heart is racing. "Okay, Mary. I'm going to hang up so that I can call Max and Michael, but I'm going to call you right back, okay?"

"Okay," She says shakily.

"Alright, Mary. Pick up the phone when it rings, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," She replies, sounding a little more certain. I hang up the phone hurriedly, and punch in Max's number. No answer. Michael's, then. No answer. Damn.

I phone home, and as instructed, Mary picks up the phone. "Hello?" She asks, just as I taught her, less than a year ago.

"Hey, Mare. It's Daddy. I can't get Max or Michael to answer their phones, so you're going to need to help the babies, okay?"

Mary sounds frantic as she replies. "But I don't know how, Daddy!"

I keep my voice calm with a heavy effort. "I know you don't. But you can do it. Just listen to me, and do what I say. And if Mommy tells you to do something, listen to her, okay?"

"Daddy, I can't!" She's panicked.

"Mary, I know you can. And the babies need you to. So just take it one step at a time, okay? The babies are counting on their big sister for this, alright?"

There's a long pause, and then I hear her fast breathing close to the phone again. "Okay, Daddy."

"Good. Now, are you talking on the walking phone?" I ask her, referring to the cordless telephone we have in the living room.

"Yeah."

"Good. So just walk to where Mommy is, and take the phone with you, okay?"

"Okay." I can hear her feet padding down the hallway, and I suspect she's going in the direction of the bedroom, but at this point, it really doesn't matter. Her feet stop when she's about twenty steps from her earlier position, and I can hear her crouch down to the floor. Oh, shit. If Iz didn't make it to the bed or the couch, this must really be bad.

With the biggest effort I've ever made, I keep my voice from shaking or sounding panicky when my daughter comes back on the line. "What now, Daddy?" She asks.

I take a deep breath. "I want you to hold onto the phone until I tell you to put it down, okay, Mare?" I tell her. "Now, after you put down the phone, this is what you need to do.

"You need to put both of your hands on Mommy's tummy, where we showed you the babies are, and I need you to think really hard about how healthy you want them to be when they're born.

"Can you do that, Mare?"

She sounds unsure, but determined. "Yeah, Daddy."

"Okay. Then put down the phone, Mary."