Beware the wail of the twin sirens

It started as a whimper and it was irresistible.
I can't remember the date, but I do remember that a few weeks ago Jonathan held his arms up to me and whimpered ever so slightly. When I picked him up, he wrapped his toddler fingers around my neck and buried his head in my chest.
And I held him there for the longest time.
Enjoying his warmth.
Loving that he needed me.
But that whimper became a full-blown wail today.
And it's not so cute anymore.
Jonathan has become my clingy one. His once-adorable whimper now makes my blood pressure rise. His outstretched arms are dangerous: he grabs my legs and trips me; he grabs my arms and spills whatever I am carrying; he grabs my shirt and pulls me backwards, throwing me off balance.
Until today, Matthew has simply looked on.
He has patiently waited for something else to attract Jonathan's attention, knowing that I would give him his share of hugs and cuddles the second my arms were free.
Sure.
Every now and then, the two of them would start to battle over that space on my lap, but, in the end, Matthew would relent.
And he never whimpered.
Until today.
Today was third day of preschool.
The twins are attending two mornings a week.
They had a blast the first day. Jonathan cried a little when he realized I was leaving, but he couldn't resist the lure of the new toys, the new kids and the novelty of it all.
They were tired when I picked them up, but tired in a happy, worn-out kind of way. The second day was much the same.
But this morning, Jonathan began to whimper just outside the room.
And I could see Matthew perk up.
Matthew was about to go through the classroom doorway when he turned back to me, bright-eyed and determined. He stretched out his arms and began to whimper.
Jonathan was stunned for just a second, but then he whimpered louder.
And Matthew whimpered louder.
And Jonathan cried.
And Matthew cried.
And Jonathan began to wail.
I couldn't pick them both up while carrying backpacks, so I tried to lead them in by the hands. They threw themselves down on the floor and refused to budge. The teacher came out and grabbed one. The director grabbed the other.
I kissed them good-bye and lingered outside the door.
Finally, I asked a passing dad to peek in and give me a report.
Each boy was snuggled in a set of arms, he said. They seemed happy, but they were whimpering just a little.
"It was so cute," he said.
And, despite the stress of the morning--despite my throbbing veins, my aching head and my queasy stomach--I was suddenly overwhelmed with a new feeling. One I didn't like because it hurt too much.
I was jealous.
I was jealous of the teacher and the director who held Matthew and Jonathan in their arms, feeling those toddler fingers wrap around their necks and those heads buried in their chests.
Feeling their warmth.
Feeling loved.
Feeling needed.

My little guys

Some new pictures just because it's been a while.

Above:

Jonathan loves to grab Matthew from behind and let Matthew "lead" him through the house.

Below:

Jonathan is in the green, Matthew is in the white and blue.

Seeing each other without seeing double

Matthew and Jonathan have plenty of toys that are duplicates of each other.

They have two Thomas the Trains, two Percys, two Gordons, two Lightening McQueens, two school buses, two dump trucks, two ride-on inch worms, two of most any vehicle that they might fight over.

But their white cars are an exception.

Both are white, both are sports cars and they are about the same size, but the two cars are different models. Yet, it was these cars that Matthew pointed to the other day when looked up at me, his eyes bright, and said, "twins!"

Jonathan looked on with interest as Matthew repeated his revelation over and over again.

Then, less than half an hour later, Jonathan pulled out two Diego vehicles. One was a pick-up truck and one was a jeep-like vehicle, but both were yellow and both held figures of Diego and Baby Jaguar snuggled close to one another.

"Twins!" Jonathan said proudly.

Maybe it was just a coincidence.

Maybe at 2.5 years old, they don't know what the heck they are talking about.

Maybe I overreacted.

But it was one of those identical twins moments that hit me hard, right in the chest, right in the stomach, right in my heart. These two boys who look so much alike, who were born of the same egg and share the same DNA, did not relate their status to that of the replicated vehicles, differentiated only by wear and tear.

Instead, they chose vehicles that look similar at first glance, but that are, in reality, unique from each other.

Just like them.

A difference of weight

For the first time ever, Matthew's and Jonathan's weights are significantly different.
I first noticed it two weeks ago when they were recovering from colds. Both boys had preferred milk to solids while they were sick, but Matthew tended more toward the liquid diet than Jonathan.
So when they stepped on the scale after a bath, I attributed the difference to their illnesses.
Matthew weighed in at 33.5 pounds.
Jonathan was 35 pounds.
But two weeks later, the difference remains.
Part of me wondered whether I was feeding one twin too much or another too little, but then a babysitter put things into perspective: Matthew is much hyper than Jonathan, she noted as she watched them play.
And she was right.
Very right.
Matthew is spontaneous.
Always.
He moves without thinking and he moves constantly.
He rarely stops to eat, though he can't resist a sippy cup full of milk, especially when he is offered his yellow bear and a corner of the sofa with it.
Jonathan, on the other hand, contemplates things more often. He watches his twin brother and he learns from his mistakes. Then he decides whether to act. He does not waste energy; He lets his brother waste it for him.
And, boy, does he ever love peanut butter and jelly.
So, it is possible that this illness was just the beginning. That Matthew will never make up that caloric difference because he can't be bothered: he is too busy. And that future illnesses will create even greater differences until the two boys are double-digit pounds apart.
But then you never know.
Identical twins like to keep parents on their toes.
In utero, Matthew staked out his place as first-born from the beginning (or rather, from the 20-week ultrasound when we first learned two little guys were hiding out in there). He was head-down right near the cervix when we first saw him and there he stayed.
He never gave Jonathan a chance.
Jonathan was all over the place, kicking my ribs, my bladder, my pelvis.
Even after his brother was born, he wouldn't stop moving long enough to come out. He yanked his second foot away every time the doctor tried to breech extract him and took off swimming. When he finally decided to join the world 20 minutes later, he took a spontaneous pike dive, engaging fully head and foot first, and had to be removed via emergency c-section.
The boys were seven ounces apart and Jonathan was the lightweight.
I'm learning that just when I think I understand Matthew and Jonathan, that I know who they are and why they behave like they do, they pull a switch on me.
So I'm not going to worry.
Instead, I'm going to sit back and enjoy the ride.

More than twins: friends

One day several weeks ago, Jonathan took me by the hand and pulled.
"Come on, Mom," he said, leading me toward the room he shares with Matthew. "Come on. Play."
And I did.
This method of manipulation was new to Jonathan and he was thrilled that it had worked.
So, after that first incident, he started pulling me everywhere--to his room, to the basement, to the front door, to the refrigerator. His glee at his successes was irresistible, so I complied whenever possible.
Then, one day, I saw him reach for Matthew's hand.
"Come on, Matty. Jonny's bed. Play," he said.
Matthew appeared stunned for a moment and he would not take Jonathan's hand. But when his brother repeated his request, Matthew followed. Jonathan decided that was good enough. He dropped his hand to his side and simply led the way. They played for almost an hour, jumping on their beds and crashing back down in unison.
That was the day the dynamic began to change.
In the old days (like about two weeks ago), Matthew and Jonathan would go separate ways when freed from their stroller in large play areas. Jonathan, the social one, would seek out an occasional playmate. Matthew preferred to play on his own. Toward the end, when they both grew tired, they would come together and play.
That's how I knew it was almost time to go.
No more.
I first noticed it at the playground last week. After a few minutes of independence, Jonathan sought out Matthew. "Come on, Matty. Come slide," Jonathan said, starting out in the direction of his favorite slide.
Without hesitation, Matthew followed.
And for the rest of our time there, Jonathan led the way.
The same thing happened at the YMCA toddler pool yesterday.
"Come on, Matty. Jump in water."
"Come on Matty. Eat Goldfish (the crackers, not the real thing)."
"Come on. Matty. Swim."
And again at the Children's Museum today.
"Come on, Matty. Tunnel."
"Come on, Matty. Roll balls."
"Come on, Matty. Sand."
Where Jonathan went, Matthew followed and he followed willingly.
I'm sure the day will come (soon) when Matthew tires of being the follower and the two struggle over who gets to lead. But that's okay. The point--the thing that makes me so happy inside--is that Matthew and Jonathan find each other to be worthy playmates outside of the home when there are so many other kids to choose from.
They are become far more than brothers.
Like their older brother and sister who are often inseparable, they are becoming friends.

Sabrina died: a twin mom remembered

I don't like sad news, but sometimes it serves as a necessary reminder.
This is sad news.
A fellow member of the Baby Center community died July 2.
Her name was Sabrina.
She was mom to 5-month-old identical twin boys and a son who is 5.
Sabrina died of an infection she contracted a month after the twins were born. The infection spread to her brain and caused a heart attack. Her husband, Andres, has launched a memorial blog where all who knew her can post remembrances for her children to read when they are older.
Sabrina lived in Argentina and most of the posts are in Spanish.
But many who plan to post will be writing in English.
When I first read her husband's announcement, I was having a particularly frustrating day.
Jonathan and Matthew were on a stripping streak. Every time I got them back into diapers and clothes, they'd announce that they wanted to use the potty and strip again.
Sometimes, they really did use the potty.
But most of the time, they just ran around naked.
They needed a nap, but getting them to sleep during the day in their big-boy beds was next to impossible. I felt like I was neglecting my older kids, who had spent most of the morning taking turns on their computer.
I was feeling sorry for myself because I never seem to have time to write or run.
Then I read about Sabrina.
And I was reminded.
It's cliche, I know.
But all I could think of then and all I can think of now is that life is good.
Life really is very, very good.

Potty training: where one goes, the other will follow

Jonathan has always let Matthew take the lead in all things physical.
When Matthew was learning to crawl, Jonathan sat aloof, unmoving, in the center of the living room floor and watched. He watched for weeks as Matthew learned to fall from sitting position onto his belly, lift himself up onto his hands and knees, rock back and forth and then, finally, propel his body in different directions.
Two days later, Jonathan was at least as fast as his brother.
It was the same scenario for rolling over, sitting up and walking.
So I supposed I shouldn't be surprised that Jonathan shows no interest in potty training while Matthew is obsessed.
It started at the sitter's three days ago and Matthew's obsession has grown each day since.
This morning, he refused all potty seats and the toilet insert. Instead, he propped himself up on the big toilet and, for almost two hours, he sat and peed and sat and peed, watching Once Upon a Potty over and over.
He missed a few times and he didn't quite get there for number 2 (though he knew it was coming and he tried), but he had three or four successes (He drinks a lot.). Meanwhile, his brother sat on the sofa, aloof and unmoving, drinking milk.
For a moment, I thought Jonathan might join in. He stood up, pulled off his shorts and peeled off his diaper with an eager look on his face. I pointed him toward a potty seat and he moved forward, right past it to the Cars pull-up that lie on the floor next to it.
He handed me the pull-up and his shorts and said, "Cars? On?"
So I helped Jonathan into his pull-up, gave him more milk and turned back to Matthew, who was alternating toilet-flushing with toilet-sitting and hand-washing. Matthew was, once again, taking on the physical burden for his identical twin.
But he didn't seem to mind and, although Jonathan's eyes appeared glued to the little cartoon Joshua who was sitting on a little cartoon potty, I'm sure I saw his eyes shift to the bathroom every now and then.
So, for now, I'll focus on teaching Matthew.
And I'll let the brothers work out the rest.