Sometimes it happens by accident

From the moment we found out I was carrying identical twin girls, it has weighed on my mind to make sure that each girl grew to be strong, independent, and completely herself.  No rhyming names. Embrace their differences while acknowledging that being a twin is very cool.  Close but not co-dependent.

It was obvious from the get-go that the girls had very different personalities.  Of course, there are some striking similarities (after all, they are sisters), but they are also very different, unique individuals. 

Lately I've been trying to figure out how to parent them separately.  Sometimes you can (and have to) parent them as a duo, and I feel confident in that.  Any parent of more than one child knows that at some point, each child demands their very own brand of parenting, and I was feeling it with the girls.

Last semester Thursdays were drum days.  It's kind of a special 5th grade thing to get to take a drum class after school, and both girls wanted to participate.  About Thanksgiving, Brooke started telling me that she didn't want to continue with drum during the spring semester.  I ignored her, humored her, listed all the reasons why she might miss it, reminded her of how excited she was to start...she stuck to her guns.

In January, when it was time to make her final decision, I let her stop.  I pick her up after school every Thursday and leave Mary Tutu to go to drum class.  For 2 hours every week, it's just her and me. 

At first I thought this time had to be structured and packed with "just you and me stuff".  We unboxed her very own, brand new sewing machine that she got 2 Christmases ago.   We baked cookies, watched the DVR, cooked new recipes for supper...all stuff that I had planned.  

And then I began to realize I had it all wrong with all the structure and the organizing.  What she really needed was some space...no partner, no agenda, no activity.  Just some room to breathe in her own Brooke air.

She has the run of the house, the TV remote, and room to stretch.  I don't make her start homework right away.  Sometimes she wants to go to the library, sometimes she watches TV, sometimes she hangs out in the sun room and chats with me, sometimes she wants to sew, sometimes she draws pictures of what her handmade gifts and sandwich shop will look like someday. 

In her own way, she let me know what she needed. 

So now, Thursdays after school are Brooke days.  I make sure my schedule allows me to say yes as much as possible.  We play it by ear.  Whatever she's feeling that day. 

It's been good for her.  Quitting drums was a good idea.  I'm so glad I listened to her.

Stuff I don't want to forget.

1. Last night Brooke told us that at the end of EVERY SINGLE RECESS her teacher "wiggles her lip gloss and puts some on her lips". EVERY SINGLE DAY.

2. We pretty openly joke about how Brooke's pancreas is "lazy" or "dumb" at our house. (Occasionally I even allow the 's' word,'stupid', to be used. I'm cool like that.) It adds fun and blows off steam in an otherwise crummy situation.

A couple of days ago when Mary Tutu was home sick we went to Barnes and Noble for coffee/hot chocolate and sick day reading. Mary Tutu got a new coloring book and I picked up a copy of Think Like a Pancreas.

After school, Mary Tutu was telling the others about her sick day (trying to make them jealous, I suspect) and she told Brooke that Mommy got a new book called Think Like a Pancreas.

Brooke snorted and said, "All that's gonna do is make her dumber."

3. Second grade seems to be the magic year for us when it comes to filling our kids in on the birds and the bees. This summer, right before 2nd grade started, we tackled that issue with the girls. They were ready and handled it great, but it was different with them than it was with Bubba.

Bubba NEVER talks about it. The girls? ALWAYS have questions.

This morning on the way to school, Brooke wanted to talk about honeymoons. Mary Tutu was very indignant and insisted that there are SOME things we should keep PRIVATE. Brooke was quick to specify that she just wanted to talk about where she wanted to go on her honeymoon...Great Wolf Lodge.

Mary Tutu couldn't decide between Paris or Disney World.

At Last!

I didn't even have to look at the calendar. I knew today was the day. I knew because as I stumbled to the kitchen to pour my first cup of coffee, Brooke bounced in, informed me that she'd been up since "6 something", and asked, "Can we change my earrings now? Can we, can we, can we? Pleeeeeeease?"



Knowing myself as well as I do, I politely put her off until I'd finished my first cup of coffee. It was in every one's best interest. Before coffee is not the best time to attempt to use fine motor skills . . . especially on something so monumental as changing the 6 year old's earrings for the first time.



As soon as the last drop of coffee had touched my tongue, Brooke was in my face ready to go. I still maintain that 1 cup of coffee was not sufficient because she cried. She said taking the first one out hurt and absolutely, under no circumstances, wanted another earring in her ear.



At that point, being 1 cup of coffee short, I had no patience to list all the reasons why she really did want earrings in her ear. I just man-handled her. Cleaned the ear really well, and put the new earring in.



Then I focused my eyes on the second earring and realized that there were some crusties keeping me from slipping the post out easily. It's probably why the first one was a little more difficult than Brooke would have liked.



Well, it's her own fault. I tried to tell her that I needed a little more time to wake up before we changed earrings.



After the crusties were cleared away, the second earring was changed without a hitch.




We've come so far in such a short time. Six weeks ago, this was our little Brooke . . .

And today, she's showing off her first set of Mickey earrings.

Because of reasons that we are no longer allowed to speak of, Mary TuTu did not get her ears pierced at the same time that Brooke had hers done. The phrase "chickened out" has been banned from our house. And, word to the wise, if you have twins, take the other one out of the store and walk around while the first one is wailing and gnashing her teeth. Then when the first one is smiling and so excited about the sparkles in her ears, put the second one in the chair.



For goodness sakes . . . don't let the second one watch the first one.



If you do, you'll have two freaking out, estrogen-filled girls on your hands and you will walk out of the store with only one set of pierced ears. And 4 days later, on a busy Saturday afternoon, you will find yourself back at the mall, fighting all the crazed teens, gearing up for round two.



And then you will have to explain to your 6 year old girls and your 10 year old son why the 50 year old man is getting his ears pierced. Because Saturday is the day when all the freaks go to the mall.



Just suffice it to say that Mary TuTu waited 4 days. So now, she has to wait 4 more days.

The Scam

Finally it's time. We've been saving and waiting for what seems like a lifetime, and I guess it has been the span of the girls' lifetime. This is the week we're going to visit The Mouse . . . at his California home. The days leading up to the trip will be filled with what you'd expect, laundry, errands, packing, and more laundry.

Uncle Bubba and my parents are all going, too, so it'll be a family affair. Grampy is fascinated with all things having to do with The Mouse. I think I was about 6 the first time we visited The Mouse's Florida home. This will be Honey and the girls' first time meeting The Mouse and his friends.

I think all those visits with The Mouse have gone to Grampy's head. He seems to think he knows the ways of The Mouse so well that he's talked us all in to running a little scam.

Remember "The Headless Babydoll of 2007"? Grampy can't bear to see his two little granddaughters cry. We have a certain youngest twin that has an adventurous streak waiting to explode as soon as she hits the gates of The Mouse Estate. She wants to ride every single ride, no matter how scary or fast. I have a feeling she'll just roll her eyes at "It's a Small World" as she runs past it headed for "Space Mountain".

The concern all along has been that she won't be tall enough to ride the stuff that really makes her eyes sparkle. So we've waited as long as possible to give her time to grow as tall as possible. And Saturday we measured both girls. The magic number is 42" . Diva Twin measured about 44" and, always the shorter twin, Adventure Girl measured about 43". And I knew we would all sleep better that night.

But it wasn't good enough for Grampy. What if we measured wrong? What if their measuring sticks were different than ours? What if, by some crazy turn of events, Adventure Girl was denied the right to ride a fast, scary ride? And she cried? It would totally ruin Grampy's trip. So the scam was born.

The idea of always measuring the taller Diva Twin first and then quickly ushering the shorter Adventure Girl past, falling back on the old adage that "they're twins, so they are just alike" was rejected. It was just too risky, especially since there were no guarantees that we were getting Diva Twin to agree to ride the fast, scary rides.

Grampy gave me strict instructions to go to the nearest store and purchase a pair of tennis shoes for each girl with the thickest soles we could find. To boost their height, thereby tricking the cast members at The Mouse Estate into thinking that they were in fact taller than they actually are. And for some sick, unknown reason, I agreed and bought the shoes. (I also found a pair for me and purchased them as well.)

So now we have two girls that measure 46" and 45". Surely they will not be denied the right to ride most of the fast, scary rides. They are a full 10" too short to ride the biggest rides, but I just didn't think the scam would work with 10" soles. The key to any good scam is subtle.

My babies are growing up and I don't like it one bit.

When the girls were little I couldn't go anywhere without someone stopping me and asking if they were twins. There were days when I didn't think I could find a polite response if one more well meaning person interrupted my grocery shopping to discuss how I must have my hands full with twice the baby fun.

Then there were other days when I would just stand and talk to anyone who would dare to make eye contact because I craved adult conversation.

The girls grew up with all that attention, and at about age two they would stand in the basket, shriek "Hi!" and wave to every. single. person. we passed. They both love the social interaction, and they were both equally devastated when a person was stone cold enough to walk by without acknowledging them. How can you resist two blue eyed cuties with matching smiles that lit up the room?

By age three they were wise to the grocery store small talk. They could initiate and follow-up on the entire conversation all by themselves. "Hi! We're twins. We're thwee. Mommy got her hands full."

Now that they are creeping ever so quickly towards their 5th birthday, fewer and fewer people stop us. They don't look as much alike as they used to. Mary TuTu is quite a bit taller than Brooke. They like to wear their hair differently. And...they are starting to want to wear different clothes.

I am certainly not ready for this latest development. Here's how it works. If I lay out matching clothes for the next day, they usually put them on without much of a fuss. They look like my sweet little dolls that I've dressed up for the last 4 years, and all is right with my world.

If I just tell them to go and get dressed and allow them to pick the clothes...

we end up with something like this. In this picture Brooke has just rolled her eyes at the thought of taking time for a picture. She is "late for soccer practice and then after that cheerleader".

Mary TuTu is thrilled at the thought of getting to pose for a picture. She insists that I take a few so I can get her at many angles. She has just informed me that she is "delighted to be a part of the talent show".

When I found out I was carrying twins, I was adamant that we raise them to have their own personalities, their own interests, their own lives. We didn't choose rhyming names and I didn't want to dress them alike.

Then we had our shower and we got the most adorable little outfits ever. And there was two of everything. So the dressing them differently quickly went out the window. I grew to love seeing them dressed alike. I love seeing two of everything hanging side by side in their closet. When we are looking for shoes, my reflex is to look for 4. When we pack for a trip, my mind automatically doubles everything. It's habit.

As the nature of a child often teaches us, things don't stay the same forever. Change happens. And right before my eyes, my kids are growing up. I know it has to happen. I know they will be stronger, smarter, and more confident because of it. I know deep down it's what I want for my children, to realize their own dreams and passions. But I don't have to like it.

Heavenly

I got to do something this morning that I've wanted to do for years. I always knew I would, I just never dreamed it would be this soon.

G is a little girl in my class. Her mom just had twin boys. They were 6 weeks premature and they were in NICU for 2 weeks. They've been home about a week, and today was her first day to have them all alone. Her MIL left this morning after making the school run, and her hubby is out of town until this evening.

She has 5 children now: Kindergarten, Pre-K, 3 yrs, and twin newborns. I can't even imagine. Anyways, this weekend, she called and invited me over to meet the babies. I was thrilled and knew it would be fun for me to hold and cuddle them while my girls played with her older children. We set the time for this morning so that I could help her with her mid-morning feeding.

This morning, about 10 minutes before I left the house to head that way, she called. Her foot was swollen and she needed to run to the doctor and have him make sure it wasn't serious. Did I mind if she went and took care of it after the babies ate? Well, of course not! I was glad she felt comfortable enough to ask.

When my girls were babies, I desperately needed someone I could call. My mom and dad were wonderful. They were there any time I needed them, but they both work, you know, real jobs. And sometimes I just didn't have a good enough excuse to justify them taking the morning off of work.

People always offered, but I never felt comfortable asking. I wanted someone that I knew wouldn't be overwhelmed with 2 babies. I wanted someone who could handle the feeding time if they had to. I wanted someone who understood that my house just couldn't be picked up, organized, or clean. (That was my excuse then, I'm not sure what it is now. . .)

During those long isolated months I decided that when I was able, I wanted to be that person to others. And today, I got to do just that. Two (tiny) babies and a few preschoolers do not overwhelm me. If I'd had to feed them all alone, I could have. If they both got fussy at the same time, I would have known what to do. And I think that's why this mom only hesitated a second when she left them all, all 6 of them, in my care for about an hour and a half.

That, and she isn't real far in to the whole twin thing. The reality is about 4 weeks into it, you start blocking it all from your memory. You bury it somewhere deep in your subconcious. All the middle of the night feedings, the constant diapers, and laundry, and spit up, and crying? It's all just a blur, mercifully removed from your memory making it possible to continue day after day. It's just one of those miraculous coping mechanisms the Lord blessed us with.

Hey don't laugh, I know that's only like 90 minutes. But to a mom of a newborn or two, that's plenty. And it was plenty for me. It was all the time I needed to be reassured that even though those first few months were so hard and all I seemed to do was fumble through the day, it was not all in vain. I picked up a valuable skill set during those difficult months. And today when I got to snuggle with two sweet, tiny babies, and smell their precious heads, and kiss their soft temples, all that hard work paid off.

Sisters

Last night at supper the conversation took the turn that it usually does when talking to the girls lately. . . the boys they are crushing on.

Mary TuTu said, "Sweetie is my favorite boy."

"Yeah, and Cutie is my favorite boy," chimed in Brooke.

Mary TuTu explained with, "Yes, I told her to like him so she wouldn't like my boy."

I'm laughing now, because I know that in a few years, there will be heartache involved when we have discussions like this.

So Y'all Can Bear Witness To My Mad Parenting Skillz

We drive a mini-van. (Yes, a mini-van. I got over my smug, I'll-never-drive-a-mini-van phase the minute I saw the four door, one touch automatic sliding side door, keyless entry wonder that we bought the summer I was pregnant with the girls.) The seating in our van is arranged with two front captain's seats, followed by two captain's chairs in the middle, and a bench seat in the third row. For three loooong years, Bubba has been banished to the third row where it is hard to hear or be heard over the wind noise/twin chatter/Vegi-Tales singing extravaganza. The girls have occupied the two captain's chairs in the middle since before they were born. (We had their carrier/car seats installed a good month before they came.) At first this was a necessity. We needed to be able to load and unload the girls easily and also be able to reach them while sitting in the front seats.

The problem with this arrangement has only revealed itself in the last few months. I laugh when I read the stories that BooMama tells about her son that TALKS! IN! ALL! CAPS! AND! EXCLAMATIONS!. I have two of my own offspring that talk the same way. This habit is irritating at best, and it is never more annoying than in the car. Such a loud, continuous noise in such a small, compact space would make anyone want to go to the salvage yard and have them shave off the top of the van making it the first convertible minivan with an automatic sliding side door.

With all the noise going on in the middle seat, Bubba has a hard time being a part of the conversation waaaay back in the third row. Honey and I can barely hear ourselves decide where we are going out to eat for supper with all of the "MOMMY, ISN'T THAT TREE JUST SO, SO PRETTY! DADDY, DID YOU SEE THAT TREE? IT'S JUST SO, SO BUTIFUL!" (That's the girl version. Slightly less choppy, slightly more adjectives like pretty and butiful, slightly more words squeezed in between breaths, and just as loud.)

Things like, "You need to make your voice quieter." and "Use your inside voice." and "I'm sitting right here beside you." just don't register in the brains of 3 yr olds.

I recently decided to try an experiment. We moved Brooke and Mary TuTu to the third row and let Bubba start sitting in the middle row. Yes, it is a little harder to get the girls buckled in, and yes, they are far, far from reach when I need to "touch" them to get their attention, but, oh, the blissful peace that comes when I am driving down the road and hear my girls talk to me at a normal decibel. More than once over the past two weeks, I've been able to hear myself think as I sit in the driver's seat, "Man, Girl! You got some mad parenting skillz!"

So, Brooke and Mary TuTu?

A few people have asked why I call the twins "Brooke" and "Mary TuTu". Of course in real life I call them by their real names, but here I use these nicknames mainly to protect their identity.

When I was expecting the twins, the teens were fascinated with the whole process. The girls would rub my stomach, sit with their hands propped on my stomach during Bible class to feel the kicks, bend down to stomach level and talk to them, and comment about my "widening girth". The boys were just as fascinated just not as "hands-on". They also commented on my "widening girth" (I did get pretty big!), teased about eating for three, and usually gave up their chairs for me if theirs was a more comfortable one. This was weird at first, but I just decided that if you are married to a youth minister, this is all part of the "experience".

Bubba had just turned 3 when I found out I was pregnant. He had a crush on one of the teens, and she just adored him, too. Her name was Brooke. Honey and I were having a hard time coming up with names (two sets of first and middle that we both liked was hard!). The teens (and grandparents) were anxious to know what their names would be, and we didn't have a clue.

While we pondered this, Bubba and Brooke came up with a back-up plan. They would each name one, and then if Honey and I didn't come through, we could use their names. Brooke picked "Brooke" and Bubba picked "Mary TuTu" (don't ask, I don't know, he was 3!).

While at doctors appts (I had at least 3 per week) they referred to the girls as "Twin A" and "Twin B". This made it easy to keep up with the health of each baby. It didn't feel very endearing for me to call them "Twin A and B" so I started referring to them as Brooke and Mary TuTu. It caught on and soon everyone was doing the same. Brooke was on my right and Mary TuTu was on my left. Even my ob-gyn and the nurses that did my NSTs twice a week played the game. We called them this so much, I was afraid that Bubba would be confused and call them these names even after they were born. It was a fun game, but I didn't want the names to last that long!

When I delivered the girls, I asked the doctor which one was born first. He replied, "Mary TuTu." The attending doctor and nurses all looked at him and then at me with these bewildered looks. They didn't know we had been playing this game for 5 months! Then the nurse finally had to ask so she could make sure the records were correct,"Was that "Twin A" or "Twin B"?"

Bubba never did get confused. He didn't ever call them Brooke and Mary TuTu after they were born. Now, almost 3 years later, he claims he doesn't even remember naming them that at all!

New Game

I'm starting a new little game. You are welcome to play along. I'm calling the game "Phrase of the Day". To play "Phrase of the Day", I will leave a quote of an actual phrase that was said to me today. You, the player, will use your imagination to guess what the phrase is referring to. It sounds like fun to me. Don't worry about assuming and inferring. At my house, it usually is as bad as you imagine. So, here is round number 1. . .

"I got Mary Kay on me!"


Since it is the first round, I will give you 3 hints:

1. two-year-olds

2. lipstick

3. My mom is a consultant for Mary Kay and has educated my children in the ways of the eternally beautiful.

Good Luck!

Guess Who?

We can't decide; is this Brooke or Mary TuTu?