Our twins were our first (and only) children, so I didn’t go into twin motherhood with any particular expectations of what it would look like. Certainly not beyond the logistical stage of how to feed and diaper two infants at once.
Four years later, we have a set of inseparable children. Our son and daughter are always together, the best of friends, quick to ire, yet utterly devoted to each other no matter what. They’re kind of like a little old married couple.
A little old married couple plotting to overthrow the government.
During my pregnancy, we laughed at ultrasound pictures showing their little heads together. I distinctly remember Hubster saying, “Look, they’re already conspiring against us!”
People, God most definitely has a sense of humor.
I am mothering in the trenches, y’all. Not to say this is Iwo Jima or anything, but it’s not for the faint of heart. Especially when your twins learned to plot in the womb, make a practice of rescuing each other from time-out, and can defeat any deadbolt or childproofing device known to man by the age of four. That package they ordered from Amazon the other day? Definitely their first set of lock picks.
After preschool the other day, I let the kids have a (long) romp on the playground with their friends. The usual routine is to go home after that and put them down for a nap. As we were getting strapped into car seats, pouring sand out of shoes, and taking entirely too long to board the van and leave for home, my son piped up, “Mommy? Can we watch Max and Ruby?”
[Max and Ruby are a pair of bunny siblings with their own show on Nick Jr. Each show consists of Max repeating a single word over and over, while Ruby does her best to ignore them so she can have the perfect tea party. Their parents have never been seen; no doubt because they’ve fled the state, leaving them in the custody of one ditzy grandmother with a spotty attendance record. It is about as grating as Elmo. Plus Barney. Times the Teletubbies.]
At first, I was wonderfully patient, explaining to my kids that no, we could not watch Max and Ruby. We had to go home and take a nap. Why? Because they were tired. Yes, they really were, even if they didn’t feel like it. And no, we couldn’t watch even one episode before the nap. Why? Because I said so.
On our way home, we passed a toy store, prompting my son to announce that, “next time, we can go in the toy store and you can buy me a new toy to play with, Mommy.”
Instead of snapping, “We just celebrated the birth of Christ by buying you an insane amount of trains and tracks. No way are you getting near a toy store,” I calmly said, “I do not negotiate with terrorists.”
Not that this stopped my son. “But WHY, Mommy, why?!?”
“It’s simply good foreign policy. Now stop trying to negotiate.”
Then we passed Chick Fil-A. “Mommy, can we have a milkshape?”
“No. And it’s ‘k.’ Milkshake.”
“But we haven’t had one yet,” he whined.
“Mommy, I be good,” my daughter chimed in. “I wanna milkshake, too.”
“You just had lunch.”
“But Mommy!” my son pleaded. “God told me I could have a milkshape.”
“Me, too! He told me, too!” his sister echoed.
Oh, he did, did he?
“Well, far be it from me to contradict the Almighty, but I’m pretty sure he meant y’all could have a milkshake one day when your Mommy said you could,” I said.
[In unison] “But Mommy!”
“I do not negotiate with terrorists,” I said. “So BE QUIET.”
There was a pause, and in the rear view mirror, I saw them looking at each other, clearly confused.
“Why, Mommy?”
“Like I said, it’s just good foreign policy. You’ll learn all about it in history class. Now, who wants to listen to Vanilla Ice?”
Who knew Political Science would come in so handy for child rearing? Had I realized, I would’ve switched majors.
Seriously! I think that having twins becomes exponential: one kid = one kid, but twins = 10 kids. A twin mom with an older singleton told me once that since I had my twins first, I didn't know how hard I was really working, since it was all I knew. Blissful ignorance!
Ah, nothing like being the heartless fun-killer. I swear, I spend more of my time telling my kids what they can't do…*sigh* It's a good thing I'm heartless and don't care that I never let them have any fun. Muahahahaha!
Oooh – children with lock picks? You should be getting some precious gems for your next birthday – congrats!
@Leigh Ann, AMEN! They feed off each other until the energy spirals out of control. When they're apart (which is rare), they're completely different children. Can't imagine how they would be if they'd been singletons.
@WTH, I said to my husband the other day, “Wonder what it would feel like to yell 'yes!' all day instead of 'no!!!'?” I'm sure it would confuse even the dog.
@Megan, pretty sure they'd use the lock picks to escape the house or raid the china cabinet (because plates make great frisbees, right?).
You're out numbered. I say it's every parent for themselves. haha They are persistent little ones. Way to hold your ground with a smile. 😉
Love it! I can't wait to use this one on my Crazies and see their confused looks!
We don't have twins (thank goodness – I don't know how you do it) but I relate. My husband uses the “terrorist” message too. And also, Lord how I hate Max and Ruby. She's so incredibly anal. And of course that's his favourite show.