A case of mistaken identity

I often tell people that, these days, I find it hard to believe Matthew and Jonathan are identical. I know we have the DNA tests to prove it, but I look at them and I see so very many differences that I wonder how anyone could mix them up at all.
Then comes a day like today.
The boys were playing with trains and cars. Matthew had been racing with Lightning McQueen in a toy garage for at least half an hour while Jonathan had been more interested in the trains. The boys decided they needed tracks of both kinds, so we dumped a few bins and started to build.
One twin focused on creating a large and winding train track while the other worked on city streets.
Then they picked up vehicles and started to play.
In less than a minute, a full-fledged brawl had broken out.
Jonathan kept trying to take Lightning from Matthew, who had been building the city. I tried offering him one of the five other Lightning McQueens they own (Yes, they are obsessed!), but he refused, insisting that particular car was his and fighting to get it back.
So I disciplined Jonathan with a time out.
Or so I thought.
Jonathan's wail as he sat in that chair was one of absolute despair.
That was odd.
Jonathan usually rages with anger in the time-out chair.
I looked more closely and saw the tiny red spider vein by the right eye.
It was Matthew.
No wonder he had expressed such despair: it really was his car.
The other twin should have been in the time-out chair.
I pulled Matthew up into my arms, held him tight and apologized over and over and over again.
I carried him to where Jonathan was playing and offered him another Lightning car in exchange. Jonathan readily agreed and the two brothers played together on the city streets that Jonathan, not Matthew, had built.
It seems Matthew has forgiven me.
I hope he has more of that forgiveness within him and that Jonathan has a wealth of it too because I am beginning to realize that I will need it. I will need lots of it and so will the many other people in their lives. And I promise that I will never doubt their zygosity again.
They are, indeed, identical twins.

Forever confused

We are leaving for the in-laws' this week with a dial-up connection and an old, slow computer. So The Boys will return when we do. But I had to share this before we leave:

For once, I was showered, dressed and wide awake when I took the boys out of their cribs at 6 a.m. yesterday morning. I grabbed Jonathan mid-bounce and placed him on the changing table. He was calm, which was odd. Jonathan usually contorts his entire body for even the quickest diaper change.
I brought him through the kitchen, grabbed his sippy full of milk and set him down with Beary on the living room floor.
Next, I grabbed Matthew, who had thrown himself down on the crib mattress, giggling and daring me to pick him up. He was good-natured...until I placed him on the changing pad. His body stiffened instantly. He arched his back and he twisted his hips with a wail.
I narrowed my eyes.
I held his head between my hands.
I focused hard on the vein across his nose.
It was thick.
I was changing Jonathan.
My husband and I had put Matthew and Jonathan to bed together the night before. We had put them in the wrong cribs with the wrong stuffed animals. The boys are 16 months old. You'd think we'd know better by now.
But still, it happens.

Fun With Identical Twins: Jan and Torben

This, I just have to share.
I was doing some research recently on identical twins when I stumbled across this Web site, Gundtofte-Brunn. Jan and Torben Gundtofte-Brunn are adult identical twins who have developed a sense of humor about the ways others see and react to them. I hope you enjoy their stories as much as I did.

Mixed Up Mom

Mischievous giggles drew me into the nursery this afternoon. Both boys should have been fast asleep. I had put them down for naps more than half an hour before and they were exhausted.
But there, in Jonathan's crib, stood the most irresistible little bundle of a guy, smiling, drooling and shaking his crib with vigor.
I lifted him out and pulled him close to me, letting him rest his cheek against mine. It was something Matthew would normally do. Jonathan is more likely to snuggle into my neck. But things always change with these guys. They pick mannerisms and habits up from each other.
We stayed that way for a few moments and then moved into the living room. For the next 20 minutes, I cuddled him and played with him on the floor. I held him up to the mirror and said, "There's Jonny!" I played, "How big is Jonny? Soooooo big!" I whispered, "Mommy loves you Jonny" over and over again in his ear.
Then came a short cry from the nursery.
The baby I lifted from Matthew's crib snuggled into my neck. I pulled him away and looked at the vein across his nose. Nausea washed through my stomach.
I had mixed them up before.
For a moment.
Maybe two.
But never for this long.
I'm sure that in a few days, maybe even in a few hours, I'll find the humor in this. But, right now, it's lost to me.