There are, like, two of them.
And that means everything is twice as hard, and takes twice as long, and requires twice as much energy. (Or maybe twice 
isn’t right — three or four times is probably more accurate in our case because we also have a three-and-a-half-year-old son to boot, and he hasn’t exactly warmed to the idea of a little bro and sis, even after ten months.)
So:
Not one diaper change but two.
Not one baby to give a bath to, but two.
Not one baby to (breast)feed, but two.
Not one baby to put down for naps and nighty-night, but two.
Not one baby to scoop up off the floor so that he/she doesn’t eat carpet or cat litter, but two.
Etc.
Random closing tidbit: Did I mention that the freaky Octo Mom lives in Whittier, CA, where I was born and grew up? No, I did not.