Twins.

It's an interesting thing to see the relationship of my daughters change over time. They each came into the world with a Beloved Other right beside them; from that single moment they've shared a bond that I do not dare assess or too closely investigate.

It goes beyond my understanding to see them do the things they so innately do and feel. The times when they finish one another's sentences as if the word trains jump from one curly head to the other with seamless ease. Their ability to share a look that seems to encompass an entire conversation just between the two of them. The ability each has to sense distress or upset in the other, and rush to her twin, dropping everything and hurdling over any obstacle, to give comfort.

I do not understand this bond. Can't come even close to it because it seems to burn too brightly.

But I can watch it. Everyday. And be amazed.

They seem to be in a constant state of minor restructuring within it. It's as if even though they were born with this bond, it didn't come with an instruction manual and they still need to tweak the boundaries a bit. Get it just right. For them.

Occasionally I'll hear them conversing in a way that sounds as though they're just meeting each other for the first time, comparing likes and dislikes, adding up what they share and where they are different. In this stage of their lives, there are still more check marks in the Alike column, it would seem.

Perhaps sometimes it IS a bit like they're meeting anew. In a sense. They're changing as they grow, becoming someone slightly different. Maybe those subtle changes don't always come with a smooth transition in their bond. Maybe there are things that need to be evaluated, weighed, considered, and placed accordingly.

Or maybe they just like to stop from time to time and catch up with one another.

Who knows.

I may never truly be inside their bond; never have a complete understanding of how it works and what it feels like to be that connected to another human being, but it is glorious to watch it.

It is amazing to watch it, actually. A daily blessing.

Making A Heart

I love dinnertime at our house. It's the one time during each day when no matter how crazy or chaotic our individual days have been, we can all take a breather, sit down in one place, and talk. Together.

There is much varying conversation to be had at that rectangle each night, but whether it consists of "Important Somethings" or "Many Nothings", it's a true blessing to be together to share whatever comes to mind with one another.

Tonight's conversational journey was more of a meandering stroll with everyone stopping by one topic or another, each pointing out a bit of this and a bit of that. Dan and I shared pieces of our day, commenting on stresses and laughing off annoyances; our dialog punctuate by the occasional insertion of the random Childhood Offerings so kindly put forth by the girls: "Daddy, I have green beans on my plate." ("Yes, I see that. Isn't that nice?") "Mommy, I like to rhyme words that aren't real words." ("That's a mighty fun thing to do, cher. Truck-bluck. I like to do that too.") "Daddy, our roof won't fall off, will it?" ("No, I don't think we need to worry about that happening.")

But then, through the hodgepodge of daily domesticity came this:

"Mommy, did you know I love having a twin?"
("You do? It's a very special thing, having a twin. I'm glad you love it.")

"Mommy, did you know that when I hug my sister, it makes a heart?"
("No, I didn't know that. Does it, really?")

"Yes. See?" Across the table from us, the girls hugged each other tightly, and then rested their heads together for a moment with smiles on their faces. "See?"

I'm not sure what exactly she meant by 'Heart'. Maybe she means that there is a love between them that goes beyond words or even understanding; an abiding love that forms a connection of sorts when they are physically near to one another, leaning on each other, and offering support for the other; a completeness to be had just by being nearby. A heart.

Yes. I see that. Very clearly (and with some small amount of jealousy). I see that. And I love it.

When They're Together

Something I like:
  Last night the girls skipped up to their bedtime routine, arm in arm.

"Mommy?" came the quiet voice of my 'oldest', (by 6 very crucial minutes), "Can I sleep with my twin tonight?"

In that moment, my heart did a double thump in its cage.

Something I remember:
When the girls were younger, they were all about co-sleeping, and we had every arrangement in their bedrooms that can be imagined. When they had cribs, they were forever flip-flopping over from one crib to another; much to their mutual delight and our complete and utter horror. So we took off the front rails and turned the cribs in towards each other, creating one ginormous crib. Every morning I'd awaken to find them laying nearly atop one another. Arms linked, legs entangled; peaceful.
When they moved up to the toddler beds, we put them side by side, against each other. Despite the narrow gap and the short rails between the beds, they'd manage to attach some appendage or another together in their sleep.

Something I don't like:
We now have bunk beds, making that innate closeness utterly impossible. They sleep separate. Starkly unattached. I know it's just the way of things, but when you have two individuals (and yes, they are individuals) who are connected by a bond that defies explanation, it seems almost stunting in a way.

Something I love:
Last night we tucked both the girls in on the bottom bunk. Caedance snuggled at the head of the bed, while Ashlyn cozied up at the foot. They giggled at the renewed closeness, wiggling around to get a feel for each one's territory, memorizing the boundaries that would be kept, (almost certainly) even in sleep.
This morning I crept in to see them a few minutes before I had to wake them. Their sleeping forms created a nearly perfect Yin & Yang symbol, their wispy legs curled within each other. Their breathing was simultaneous, reaching my ears in short, gentle puffs. Their closed eyes were each twitching in the final moments of a REM cycle. The vision made me wonder if they were together in their dreams too.
When I woke them up, they sat up and smiled at each other; each girl happy to look at the other girl's face.

And I smiled too. (You know I did.)

"Mommy?" asked the still groggy voice of Ashlyn, "Can I sleep with twin again tonight?"

Oh, yes. I think so, my love. I do most certainly think so.

Let's Stick Together. Yeah-Yeah-Yeah.

The girls are very into "Sameness". When given a choice, they'll most likely choose to wear the same clothes, eat the same thing, play with the same toys. Nearly always.

Most of the time we go along with these choices. They are making them. We're not forcing it. It's their relationship, we stand back a bit. Playing the role of interested observer in a different culture.

But we do offer and encourage difference between them, allowing them an opportunity to make different choices. If they want to. We do. Honestly.

Then there are the occasions where we will feel the need to make a choice of difference for them; to thrust difference in their laps without necessarily obtaining consent first.

Let me say this clearly: in our case, this almost always backfires. Gloriously. Leaving us in a state of sheer agitation, wondering why we ever tried to force a choice anyway.

Our current issue is with a toy bought over the Christmas holidays. A Clarice doe from Rudolph The Red Nosed Reindeer to be specific. In a moment of what we considered to be "Parental Knowing", we bought one Rudolph and one Clarice. I guess we figured, "Heck, they're both reindeer, and isn't the main character cooler than the side-cast? Surely the girls will enjoy having one of each.

Oh. We were wrong.

At the time, it all seemed to be okay. Ashlyn took to Clarice and Caedance had a begrudging acceptance of Rudolph, despite his not being tan and not having a bow on his head. Peace was maintained. (Of course, the threat of Santa skipping the houses of squabbling children may have helped).

Flash forward several months later and all pretense of accepting the clearly "sub par" reindeer (aka Rudolph) is gone. No amount of reasoning will convince Caedance that she doesn't want Clarice more than anything in the world. No amount of trickery or bribery on our part will make her stop fighting for it, attempting to pull it from her sister's vise grip. No amount. At all.

For Ashlyn's part, she's doing a fine job of rubbing it in too.
 "Oh, look at this soft tan reindeer." Batting her eyes.
 (Caedance: "I want a tan reindeer!").
"Look at her polka dot bow!" Gush. Gush. Gush.
 (Caedance: "I only want a toy with a polka dot bow!")
"See how this toy has a soft white belly?" Wink. Wink.
(Caedance: "I ONLY want toys with soft white bellies!")

Shooing them from the room only means they get louder. Walking away from the fighting/whining only means they'll follow you around; Ashlyn silently daring you to take action against her rightful claim on said toy, and Caedance quite vocally insisting that you do just that.

Ignoring them only works for so long before you begin seeing flames and clutching your hands.

The only thing to do is to deal with it. Head on.

"Caedance, Clarice belongs to Ashlyn. Go find another toy. Or go to Time Out."

"Ashlyn, stop antagonizing Caedance, or you're going to your room. Without Clarice."

End of story.

I wish I could say it is the end of the whining. But there has been some improvement. Caedance has decided rolled up socks make an adequate substitute for tan, white bellied, polka dot-bow-sporting reindeer. She has emptied out the sock drawer and is laying all their new, brightly colored socks out in order of preference.

Ashlyn has tired of trying to entice disobedience out of her twin, and has settled on playing "Steam Roller" with Clarice instead. Watching her lay the reindeer on the rug and then roll over her while saying, "Bye-Bye, Clarice" in a high pitched voice has a certain entertainment value.

And so with this temporary truce, Dan and I are left to question our judgments in light of our daughters' apparent preferences. They prefer "Sameness" right now. And maybe they will for awhile. Perhaps not all twins are like this, but at this moment, this is what we've got.

I could choose to be annoyed. But I'm not. I like dressing them alike. I like seeing two little clones prancing about. I do, and I'm not ashamed to say that. I doubt they'll always be like this. (And maybe some part of me wishes they could be). But right now I accept them just the way they are.

 Same. Different. It's all good.

Just The Way They Are...

The thing about having twins is that it's an entirely new experience in an unknown realm for me. I grew up with older brothers who did not have time for me, their annoying little sister. (In hindsight, I can't really blame them as I did suffer from a bad case of "Dork".) I never had a close relationship with them, so I don't know what that's like. And of course, I have no idea what having a sister is like.

I have two children who are the very embodiment of "close" and "sisters". Heck, at one point they were one egg, one baby; can't get much closer than that. There are a million ways in which our two are not like the singletons around them, and nothing has shown us that (for better or worse) more than their being in school.

As many of you may know, they are each on 2 IEPs this year. One is for OT (Occupational Therapy) to help their handwriting get smoother, easier, and to come more naturally for them. The second IEP is for Speech & Language, but more specifically, for socialization. We've struggled with them in this area since their birth, and we went into the whole Twin parenting thing knowing it might happen. Twins (or any tier of multiples) can be very attached to their co-multiples, sometimes to the point of excluding all others outside their unique bond.

Ashlyn and Caedance share a bond which I can only begin to imagine and will never fully comprehend. They are the stereotype you think of when someone says "Identical Twins". They shared language for several years, they communicate without speaking, finish each other's sentences, and like to be near enough to one another to be touching. When they were younger, people thought this was cute. Now that they are school age, I've had a few people voice concern about their closeness, and it leads me to ask the question: Why?

Since they've been in school, they've blossomed academically and socially. We thought that perhaps being in a classroom would change their relationship, removing some of the dependence that they place on one another. But if anything, it has strengthened their bond. They've each expanded their individual worlds to let new people in, yet somehow that has allowed their own unique bond to grow even stronger. I look at them and see two little girls who are each independent on her own, and more united when together. It's truly a beautiful thing; a happy progression.

Complete strangers may look at them and wonder if they're "Too Close" and should be "Separated" to become more "Individualized", but Dan and I are confident they are doing just fine. This is their journey, after all. Their relationship is something that they must continue to grow into and figure out, and while I can guide them, I certainly cannot direct them. Not in this. For me to tell them how to relate to one another, how to feel about each other, would be like having some outsider who has never been married tell me how my marriage should function. It just doesn't work. I may "know" they are close, but I can't fully understand the extent of that, the complexities it creates. But that's okay. I'm all right with that. And I hope everyone else can be too.

For now the truth is this: They are evolving. They have friends. They enjoy being together and are learning to be apart. They are growing up, yet still seem to want Dan and I very near the center of their world. And most important of all, they love each other with an intensity that defies explanation, with a bond that is innate to them, born with them, and stronger than any bond I've seen. And it will stay with them, grow with them, and be a part of them all through their lives.

And the fact that we get to watch this happening is pretty awesome indeed.

The Invention Of Standing In Line

Every morning the students at Franklin Elementary are supposed to stand in line and wait until they are called to go into school. Line by line. Class by class. I am one of many parents who feel the need to watch over this process, making sure that my children are able to follow the "Stand In Line" protocol. What I have found is that when you're 5 "Standing In Line" can mean many different things.

For example, to "Stand In Line" may mean hopping vigorously up and down as fast as you possibly can. Standing in line my also mean whacking your brother ceremoniously about the head as many times as you can before you get caught. (There is a set of twin brothers in the girls class). And then again, standing in line may look curiously like skipping around your comrades, choosing to sample the view from any number of other lines before alighting back to your own.

For Ashlyn and Caedance, the definition of Line is blurry. This week I observed the fact that they will not stand front to back of each other. They will only stand side to side. School policies aside, (and I am a big supporter of walking nicely in a single file line), this has actually tugged at my heart strings a bit. At first I was annoyed, thinking "WHY can't they stand correctly? What is so hard about this?" I found myself walking up to them, pulling one behind the other and holding up a hand that clearly read, "Stay". I'd look on in absolute dismay as the other students stood in a beautiful straight line (after the aforementioned line-dissenters were corrected), and mine continued to stand in stony, resolute silence; side by side.

After dropping them off today, I got to thinking about the whole Side-By-Side thing and a light bulb lit up inside my head. PING! (That's the sound of a light bulb going on in my head, mind you). They weren't being deliberately disobedient. Nor were they ignoring directions. Rather, they were facing the situation in the way they know best; in the ONLY way the know, really. Together. Shoulder to shoulder, as one. Every single aspect of their lives thus far has been joined. They've done everything together both by choice and by circumstance. I've been amazed many times at their lack the word "I" and the constant repetition of "We". They are a unit. They think of themselves as such. And to those who may cry foul and decree that my children do not have a sense of self-identity and independence, may I kindly say you are quite wrong. They are quite independent of each other. I think, I truly do, that theirs is a twinship that is very delicately intertwined. It's not a co-dependency at all. I think they do genuinely feel connected to each other and it's that connection that allows them each to be independent and to go out and explore and try new things.

It's a process that works for them and has helped them blossom into the unique and slightly quirky little sprites that they are. I appreciate that greatly and have no desire to change it. However, there are rules in school, so we'll be working on the line up thing. But at least I have a better understanding now of why they're doing what they do. A bit of an insight into something I thought was simply misbehavior, but I now see was actually just yet another glimpse into a bond that I'll never truly understand.