The twin thing.

The last couple of weeks I've gone out with the twins a few times on outings in public. Something many twin mothers do all the time, but that I have stayed away from because of my body and my sanity. It's been great and each time I come home exhausted but beaming. Ari thinks I'm absolutely crazy and compares taking them out to herding cats. But I love it. I'm proud of them. I'm proud of me, and as long as you're able to ignore the inherent chaos within, it usually goes pretty well.

Long gone are the days when I smile to people say to me ignorantly, oh, I've always wanted twins! So did I. I mean, seriously, it's the cutest thing ever to take two dolls and dress them the same. Fawn over two babies laying sleeping together in the stroller. Who wouldn't want that?

Whoever said "oh, I've always wanted twins!" has never actually taken care of them for more than an hour or two.

Actually, that's not completely accurate. There are a chosen few who excel in caring for them. We worship these people when we find them, and bribe them as much as possible to move in with us. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to who can handle it, other than they love children, are confident in their ability to handle children, stay calm in the face of chaos, and have a good amount of physical strength. But the fact is, there are very few people who walk away from my home after watching the twins without needing a very long nap, and double checking their birth control.

The irony is, my twins are actually very, very, good as these things go. They sit well at mealtimes, go to sleep on a dime, follow directions pretty well for two year olds. Heck, they even do well in a parking lot. In fact, when I take one out on his own, it's the easiest thing in the world, because they really are well-behaved. But the issue is, in the world of twinsanity, 1+1 does not equal two. There's some cosmic metamorphosis that happens when you get them together that causes a ruckus that is both charming and immensely draining. So you end up trying to herd very cute monsters.

It's not their fault that they both need me RIGHT NOW. They're kids. Every child has a right to a drink, a book, a snuggle, a snack, a coat, the potty, a good cry, or whatever the need may be at that time. The problem, however, is that I'm losing brain cells these days, not gaining them, which is having a direct correlation on my ability to multitask. I can block out the demanding, but I really can't address them all at once. So they learn to wait. They learn to be patient. They learn that they are not the center of my family, but a part of it, something that my eldest struggles with. They learn that even though it involves waiting, I will eventually get to them, and do my best to fill their need.

The result? They are fantastically happy kids. My bandwagon kids, I call them. They're up for anything, any outing or adventure, so rare is the occasion. They generally eat what I give them, or if they don't want it, don't waste much breath complaining about the lack of choices. They take each other to go play downstairs or outside. They are oblivious to whose clothes is whose and whose books are whose. They love to watch me cook, and don't think about it taking away from their time. When they're sick of me they go find each other and make up a game.

 Of course, this could be an age thing. 2-3 is much more happy go lucky and indifferent to personal self than 6. But somehow I think that being born into a family that they joined instead of created has somehow altered their consciousness permanently. They do each have their own self-image. Each one has a very distinct personality and they are incredibly different, something every visitor remarks upon. But despite the differences, they draw strength from each other rather than oppose (at least most days.)

I lay awake racked with guilt thinking about how little I give them compared to what I gave G. But then, I see them taking comfort in each other. In their big brother. In their own selves. And I think, maybe this isn't so bad. They're doing pretty well, all things considered. And the trade off to the lack of individuality is that they will never ever be lonely.

Then of course I worry about what will happen one day when they are lonely. But I'm a mother, it's my job to worry. And their job is to ignore it all and continue to take joy in one another.

So when people come to me and say, oh, I always wanted twins! I nod politely and continue on my way, or I say- it's hard on the parents but amazing for them. But inside I am flexing my muscles. Parenting is most likely the hardest thing I will ever do. But as in all challenges, I am building up my muscles, and very, very proud of them.