Family Shenanigans: A Double Trouble Kind of Day

When I was abundantly pregnant with my girls, I was repeatedly asked if I was carrying twins. This alone is a faux-pas folks, please don't do that to a woman. Do I even need to say that? Then, when I'd answer, yes, we were having twins- the retort would predictably be, "Oh! Double Trouble, right?" wink, wink, nudge, nudge, giggle, snort. As if they were the first to both coin the phrase, and understand its deeper meaning. As the mother-t0-be of twins, you are about to enter parenting hell. May God have mercy on your soul. And if it wasn't that- sometimes it'd be "better you than me", snarfle, snort. We STILL get that one.

Now, for the betterment of all who live in a world with twins, for the twin individuals themselves, and for their loving, worn-out parents-- please hear me: When you say dumb stuff like that, you only make us secretly roll our eyes (or maybe not so secretly, depending on our mood) and add your name to the list of folks that we're very glad God didn't grant twins to.

Am I saying that every moment with my dear daughters (I love you Daphne & Andrea) is bliss? Is every moment with your child bliss? Yeah, I didn't think so. Well give us some credit. Give our dear kids some credit. They can't help that they were conceived at exactly the same time as their sibling in utero. It's one of those divinely quirky things that happens (even if it's with the help of a fertility doctor- those are still miracles, friends). We just have to trust in the creator of all life to give us the coping skills to get through it with our sanity intact.

It's not that my girls are always in trouble. To the contrary, we have so much good behavior that when a wave of bad behavior surges- it always catches me by surprise, and therefore, lands me on my keister spitting sand and wondering what happened.

This week, for whatever reason- a drop in humidity? a new moon phase? the last rinse cycle not quite getting all the soap out? who knows really-- for whatever reason- this has been one of those weeks that proves that dumb saying true and I am feeling a little whooped- and asking God why I can't have a back-up Mommy to help out on weeks like this.

Today, for instance, I left my "santa workshop" to go make lunch for the girls (forgive me for referring to you as a unit, Daphne & Andrea- but if Dylan were home, I'd say the kids- so you'll have to deal with it and let me know how you feel about it when you're grown). I no sooner than turned my back to zap a hot dog (don't you all start- I know there are better things to feed my kids- save that argument for another day) when I heard an odd crackly, shushing sound. The girls were absolutely silent save for the shushushush.

Any parent knows, that is a bad sound- the silence paired with the unidentified sound. I casually walked in the room and asked, "what are you doing, girls?"

There on the floor- burst bags of flavored cocoa. (Very cute, individually-boxed flavored cocoa packets.) And the soft, grainy brown powder lay sprinkled and spread all over my living room carpet. I wanted to be mad. I wanted to scream. But what good would it do? If I was two and saw a cute box that I could manipulate my fingers to open- I'd open it. And if inside I found a shiny silver bag, I'd squish it. And if it popped? and cool brown sandy sugar came pouring out? I'd run my fingers through it and swirl it into the carpet. Wouldn't you?

That's pretty indicative of this week. I found some of my Christmas cards shredded and in the trash (they do try to clean up after themselves). I cleaned up cat food that had been thrown like confetti all, and I mean all, over the kitchen floor. I've caught them cooking with sippy-cup-emptied milk several times this week. And, there's always the "I was dirty so I took off my diaper" thing. Where's my dirty diaper? Well, I don't know, why do you ask? Why am I sitting on a throw pillow with a poo-ey bum? Well, it's certainly more comfy than that drenched, poopy diaper. [Potty-training awaits after we get back from Christmas travels, oh joys and wonders.]

It has truly been a "double" trouble kind of week. One toddler (I know, I had one, by himself, before) just isn't able to cause the kind of creative damage that two toddler minds (that can communicate with words) do. It's just math.

But the reality is, I wouldn't trade it even for perfect-all-the-time twins. Because even when I'm sure I'll be bald if I pull one more hair out over it- they teach me about themselves in the process. I learn how they think. I learn how they problem solve. I learn what interests them. And those are useful things.

It's the reason I smile when someone says,"better you than me", because I think they're right. It's why I feel sad when a parent of grown twins says it to me "Oh, I've been there, glad that's over." Really? You don't miss the dog-pile on the couch- being buried under a tangle of toddler-sized arms? You don't miss those little pursed lips that kiss you on the cheek? You don't miss the "I wub you's"? It's all part and parcel.

I've got a new phrase I'd like you to try out on a twin-expectant mom, see if you can make it sound as catchy, "Double Delight". Even if she rolls her eyes at you. Even if her husband groans. They'll be secretly smiling inside and they'll add your name to the list of people that they can talk to when things are "double troublesome" because they'll know that you know, that the delights are the norm.

That's the shenanigans happening here. To read more shenanigans, check out our page of shenanigans or check out our family's blog: The Diener 5.