There truly are moments in time that stand still and stay preserved as snapshots in our minds. I sat in the recliner nursing my infant twins simultaneously in “football hold”, just as I had learned it from the books I had read in preparation for mothering these babies. A playpen full of clean clothes sat beside us, another trick I had gleaned from my reading. I hadn’t the time for folding, however there were clean clothes at the ready. My three-year old daughter was standing on the counter handing peanut butter and bread down from the cupboard to my eldest daughter, not quite five years old. I felt weary, guilty, and proud as I watched. They would be fine. There was nothing wrong with their independent lunch preparation. Hypervigilant, I scanned the room, needing to account for one more little chick. Emily, my twenty-one month old baby girl with Down’s syndrome smiled up at me from the kitty dish as she put a handful into her baby mouth. In that moment, I thought “What the hell am I doing? None of this is hurting them, right?” This surely had to be the lowest point in my life as a mother thus far. There would never be a dull moment, some better, some worse, some hilarious, some sheer joy — but no, never ever dull.