Identical twins, identical gifts?

I am a coward.
I know I should be buying Matthew and Jonathan each drastically different Christmas gifts to help them differentiate from each other, to see themselves as individuals.
But it's not going to happen.
Oh, they'll get a find a few things under the tree that are non-identical. I hit the jackpot with Thomas the Tank Engine characters on EBay and got a whole bunch cheap. So Matthew with get Emily, Dennis, and Bill and Ben. Jonathan will get Rosie, Toby, and Annie and Clarabel.
But they inherited a slew of engines from their older brother last year and they already have doubles of their favorite engines (Thomas, Gordon and Percy). So chances are good that they will simply add these new ones to the bin and happily share them.
Not so with the train T-shirts.
(Jonathan chased his brother all over the house yesterday trying to tear off his Power Rangers T-shirt, the only one we have.)
Or the doctor kits.
(One stethoscope? Are you kidding? Doctors don't have to share. Why should they?)
Or the Cars helmets.
(Different helmets could create a hazardous situation in this household.)
So they will each get a Mader car and a Thomas flashlight and a set of Take-Along tracks. They will both get Thomas place mats and a set of four little cars and the same goodies in their stockings.
They will get gifts to share from their siblings and gifts that are just slightly different from an aunt and uncle. We bought them puzzles that are the same size and same difficulty level with closely related themes.
But Matthew and Jonathan are two years old (almost three) and, at this point in their lives, their interests are just about the same. It is not simply because they are identical twins (though I believe that does have something to do with it).
It is because they are little and their experiences in life are slim. They love the things that most toddler/preschoolers love. They have always been attracted to similar colors and textures, and it's just not worth the battles right now.
It wasn't worth it with our older kids--who are 17 months apart--either.
Over the next year, Jonathan and Matthew will start to develop more as individuals. They will experience things differently more often. they will start to cultivate their own interests. We will help them do that by exposing them to as much as we can and encouraging them each to explore those concepts and activities that attract them most.
But right now, I just want them to be happy.
And, to be honest, I want to have a peaceful Christmas.
So, a coward I am.

Author/twin Abigail Pogrebin takes on our questions

When I learned I was carrying twins, I was terrified that they would be identical.
They would have issues, I thought.
All kinds of issues.
And I would have no idea how to help them.
In fact, I would probably be the cause.
I would dress them wrong, call them by the wrong names, place them in the wrong classrooms, celebrate their birthdays wrong, name them wrong, talk to them wrong, listen to them wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.
Abigail Pogrebin must have been listening.
Her book, One and the Same: My Life as an Identical Twin and What I've Learned About Everyone's Struggle to Be Singular (Doubleday/$26.95), addresses every single one of my questions along with questions I never knew I had. I gain nothing by encouraging folks to read her book.
I don't know her.
I'm not getting paid.
But I have to say that this book is absolutely essential for anyone who has anything to do with identical twins: parents, teachers, siblings, friends, psychologists, doctors, grandparents, cousins.

Everyone.

It has already affected the way I parent Matthew and Jonathan, and my husband plans to read it next.
In a previous post, I invited readers to ask questions of Abigail. Some folks responded in the comments section, The shyer parents asked questions via email. I paraphrased some of the more commonly asked questions so Abigail could address all the aspects.
Here are her answers:

Q: Is it annoying to have similar names or names that start with the same letter?

Abigail: I do think that the “gimmick” of twins—which includes naming them alike or dressing them alike—doesn’t ultimately pay off at all for the twins themselves at the end of the day. I realize that it seems harmless and fun to put twins in matching outfits or give them convenient or cute names when they’re young, but ultimately those things are more for the parents than for the twins, and the hurdle of individuality is hard enough without the gimmicks.

Q: How can I help my son bond with the twins? I don't want him thinking they are more special than him.

Abigail: As much as possible, it would be great to do an outing or activity with one twin and your son, so that he has memories with each of them separately. I wish my parents had done something regularly with me and my brother because we’d have some rituals or experiences that were ours alone. I am close to my brother, but I know we’d be closer if we’d spent some time just the two of us. I hope you’ll read my interview with my brother in my book because he paints a very honest picture about what it’s like to be the third wheel.

Q: Is it better to keep the twins together and treat them as a unit when they are young or to start introducing individual identities early?

Abigail: The sooner you start introducing individuality, the better. That doesn’t mean you have to over-worry about separating the twins, but definitely separate time should be part of the routine as early as possible. I think perhaps the most crucial chapter in my book is the one on separation – called “Making the Break” – and it really covers how twins ultimately have to let go to solidify a separate self.

Q: What we can do as parents to try to insure that both twins get enough attention from us or from any other adult for that matter?

Abigail: Just spend separate time with each on a regular basis. It doesn’t have to be a lot of time– a short excursion with one twin will make a huge difference. But it should be a regular part of life that each twin is with his or her parents solo. Be warned: the twins themselves may resist being apart. But they will benefit in the end by having separate memories with you.

Q: How can I help raise my boys to be close but also have room to be close with others?

Abigail: Usually twins have an instinctive closeness that you don’t have to foster consciously because it’s powerful already. I think the bigger hurdle is encouraging their other friendships. My research taught me that twins can be unused to developing outside bonds because they’re wholly satisfied by their twin relationship. So, as much as possible, encourage separate play dates and social experiences. I know sometimes practically that’s a challenge, but it’s worth the effort. They don’t need to have all the same friends all the time.

Q: Does it matter whether they do all the same sports and are in the same class at school?

Abigail: I have a whole chapter on competition called “You Deplete Me,” and I think you’ll find some fascinating stories and research that will address exactly your question. I would say that it it’s possible to nudge your twins to different positions or strengths within the same sport – such as playing different positions in baseball or swimming different strokes on the swim team-- that would be preferable. When twins do the exact same sport in the exact same position, it invites direct comparisons which are difficult to manage. I think being in the same classroom is fine when they’re really young, but they should definitely be separated by fifth grade. Having one’s own teachers, friends, experiences, projects is crucial and direct comparisons are inevitable in the same classroom.

Q: Is it okay to dress identical twins alike? Are they bothered by it?

Abigail: I have never understood the dressing-alike thing, except because it might be practically easier for parents to buy two of one outfit. It’s not inherently fun for the twins – it’s just a bit of a performance; identical twins already attract plenty of attention, which at times can be fun and gratifying, but can also get tiresome if the attention is mostly about your sameness and not about who you really are. I hope you’ll read my interview with my identical twin, Robin, in my book, because she is remarkably honest about how the “gimmick” of doubleness ultimately felt stifling.

Q: How much do I push them to do "their own thing" separate from their twin? Some amount of discomfort regards to new situations is healthy and normal, and I want them to have that experience the same way non-twins do.

Abigail: I think you’re absolutely right: some degree of discomfort is healthy in the long run. In my chapter called, “Identicals: A Love Story,”I talk about how twins can get very comfortable with having a constant partner, back-up, playmate – to the point where it handicaps them for friendship and independence later. I want to affirm how wonderful it is to have that built-in best friend. But it’s important to develop the muscles of handling the unfamiliar, trying new things, being in new situations, connecting with new people – by yourself.

Q: Should they share a birthday cake and/or the song, or should we sing to each separately and give each a separate cake?

Abigail: I never had my own birthday cake or song and I wouldn’t say it scarred me for life, but I do think it was a missed opportunity to shore up a sense for me and for Robin of being separate people, entitled to our own celebratory moment.

Rules of engagement

I've never seen Jonathan quite so stunned.
We were at my daughter's tumbling class Monday evening and the twins were playing with a few other toddlers and preschoolers in the observation area. Jonathan wanted a train that the other boy was playing with.
So he did what he always does.
He made an offering.
And the boy declined again and again and again.
Jonathan didn't know what else to do.
So he just sat there.
He sat there and he stared.
Eventually, he found his toy school bus and rejoined Matthew, racing the buses up and down the floor.
You see, Jonathan and Matthew have an understanding. If Jonathan wants Matthew's toy, he keeps offering Matthew something else until Matthew trades. Matthew negotiates in the same way with his twin.
It's quite diplomatic ... most of the time.
But this boy wasn't buying it.
He had the favored train and he wasn't about to let go.
This twinese thing isn't just about language.
As Jonathan and Matthew grow older, they are developing their own ways of accommodating and playing with each other.
They understand each other's intentions with simple nods and gestures.
They play games with each other's plates at the dinner table and only they know the rules.
They make faces at each other and start laughing, clearly referring back to some event or memory that they share.
With one word, one twin engages the other in a preconceived game.
I watch them and I envy them.
I can't imagine what it must be like to know someone so well.
But, at the same time, I fear for them.
This bond, the bond that makes them unique, will also hurt them sometimes.
At some point, they will have to learn the hard way how to let others in. They won't always be able to ignore the boy with the train and turn to their built-in playmate for social comfort. Sometimes, they will have to learn to pick up another toy and figure out how to play with him.
They will not always have each other and it's not healthy for them to know only each other deeply.
So, as they grow, we will have to guide them as best we can without compromising their bond. Their bond has allowed them to skip the stage of parallel play, where toddlers play near each other, observe each other in play, imitate each other and, in doing so, learn social codes of engagement that lead to friendship.
We will have to walk them through it.
Now, if only I knew the way.

This your chance: ask an identical twin

I don't know what I'm doing.
And, with a few exceptions, neither do most parents of identical twins.
Most of us have never shared an egg, our DNA and a uterus with another human being.
We don't know how our babies feel about dressing alike, sharing bedrooms or sharing cakes on their first birthdays. We are forced to go with our guts, the advice of others and the few, unproven theories that some folks present as fact.
By the time our twins are old enough to express their preferences, it's too late.
The damage, if there is any, is done.
We've had to wing it.
Until now.
In her new book, One and the Same: My Life as an Identical Twin and What I've Learned About Everyone's Struggle to Be Singular, journalist Abigail Pogrebin makes an offering. She rips open her own relationship with her identical sister, Robin, and lays it out on these pages for anyone to exam.
To help us and to help her better understand their complex dynamics, Abigail interviews an endless stream of identical twins along with parents, spouses, friends and siblings of identical twins. She talks to psychologists, geneticists, obstetricians, fertility doctors, all of them.
She attends the largest twin gathering of them all: Twins Days in Twinsburg, Ohio.
I bought the book Wednesday and started it Thursday.
Today, I am already halfway through.
I can't put it down.
It's funny. It's honest. It's intriguing.
But here's the best part:
I chatted via email with Abigail, a former 60 Minutes producer and a married mother of two children, and she has agreed to answer our questions through this blog. So, for the next two weeks, I will collect questions in the comments section or, if you're too shy, you can email your questions to me at lori@loriduffyfoster.com.
I will then forward them to Abigail and post the answers soon after.
This is our chance.
Should we separate our twins in school, give them their own bedrooms, sing them separate birthday songs? Do they mind sharing first initials, being referred to as a unit, taking baths together as kids?
You won't find a better source than Abigail Pogrebin.
So ask away!

No more preschool. This is why ...

I thought I was doing the best thing for all of us when I pulled the twins from the sitter's and sent them to a formal preschool two mornings a week.
They loved their sitter and she still took them one morning a week, but I needed more consistency and I felt they needed more social interaction.
Their sitter is a neighbor's nanny.
Whenever the neighbor's children were sick, she had to cancel. Whenever, she was sick, she had to cancel. Whenever our kids were sick, we had to cancel.
Then there were vacations to deal with: hers, ours and the parents of the other children.
I don't need a lot of time to focus on my writing, run some errands and get a little cleaning done. Nine hours a week is plenty right now, but I really need that nine hours. Even six will do. Heck, when I'm desperate, three is better than nothing.
At the preschool, they would stay home only when they were sick and they had seven other children in their class along with an assistant. The school promised help with potty training, drinking from cups and following directions.
It sounded great, it was highly recommended and the twins enjoyed the tour.
They were reluctant that first week, but by the second week, they were happy.
Sort of.
Compliant was more like it.
So I pushed that nagging feeling further back in my mind and labeled it "mommy guilt:" guilt over the fact that I had placed my twins in a formal school setting at only 2.5 years old, something I never would have considered with my older kids.
But an incident today finally opened my eyes.
Matthew had dropped his sippy cup in the parking lot. It slid under a car. He wasn't supposed to bring it into preschool anyway, but, like any toddler, he was devastated by the thought of leaving it there even for a few minutes.
While I tried to retrieve it, Jonathan ran into the parking lot.
Not good.
So I coaxed them inside with Matthew crying.
I explained the situation to the teacher and tried to tell Matthew I would get it and come right back to show him. He wasn't buying it. The tears flowed harder and that triggered a waterfall from Jonathan.
Ten minutes passed and the teacher did nothing to help me.
In the end, I had no choice, but to leave with the twins in tow. The teacher smiled and offered words of sympathy, but that was it.
As I buckled Matthew and Jonathan into their car seats with tears flowing down my own cheeks by now, something occurred to me. That teacher did not know these boys as Matthew and Jonathan.
She knew them as the Identical Twins.
Just last week, she told me that she couldn't see any differences between them. I took a few minutes to point out physical differences and then behavioral differences. She shrugged. She just didn't see it.
Now, I don't expect people to be able to apply the differences to the appropriate children, especially if they see them only in a classroom setting twice a week. But I would expect that after a month or so, this woman would at least see that there were differences.
She could have if she had tried.
But she didn't care to try.
So when I got home, I picked up the phone and I called their sitter.
I apologized for pulling them in the first place and begged her to take them more often.
"They slam the door in my face and say 'Bye, mom,' when I leave them with you," I said. "You don't need name tags and you never have. They adore you and I feel like you care for them," I told her.
She didn't even hesitate.
Matthew and Jonathan start their new schedule tomorrow.

In sickness or in health

It was a terrified cry.

The same kind of cry that had pierced my dreams 26 hours earlier when Matthew vomited in bed while lying on his back. When I found him, it was obvious that Matthew had choked on his vomit and had coughed it out of his throat to get air.

So, despite the lack of sleep the night before, I flew out of bed and down the stairs.

What I saw made my heart melt.

Jonathan, who had bemoaned the temporary loss of his playmate all of the previous day, had crawled into Matthew's bed, snuggling up next to him and scaring him out of a deep sleep. I resettled them both and they quickly fell back asleep.

Some identical twins insist that they can feel each other's pain.

I met a man once whose identical brother lives in Cleveland, about five hours from his home in Cincinnati. One day, the man said, when he was in his 50s, he complained to his wife that his arm had been aching all day.

He couldn't figure out what he had done to it.

Later that evening, his sister-in-law called. The man's twin had just emerged from surgery in a Cleveland hospital. He had broken his arm earlier that day, the same arm that had caused the Cincinnati twin so much pain.

Even if is true, even if Jonathan has been feeling Matthew's misery throughout this illness that has lasted 48 hours so far and kept him from venturing more than two feet from the recliner, Matthew and Jonathan are too young to fully understand its meaning.

Yet, the depth of their empathy leaves me in awe.

Several times today, Jonathan stopped his play and climbed into the recliner beside his brother, an act that is usually met with kicking hitting and screaming on the occupant's part. But today, Matthew didn't fight it and Jonathan didn't try to kick him out.

They sat together for long period of time and watching Max and Ruby, Diego and Little Bear.

Just a few minutes ago, Matthew started to vomit again. I grabbed the bucket and Jonathan grabbed the other side. We held it together while Matthew heaved and heaved until he had nothing left.

Then I cleaned Matthew up and sat him in the recliner once again.

And Jonathan climbed in beside him.

All three of these photos were taken today. Matthew is on the right.

The book store

I have noticed that identical twins often have identical temperaments.
Or at least they are usuually pretty darned close.
And that can be a good thing.
Take my friend Misty who has identical triplets. I first met her about four years ago at the YMCA. Her girls were three years old. They lined up to go potty when asked and then they lined up to dress in their swim suits.
They walked, not ran, out the door and headed for the pool.
I have never seen those girls misbehave.
It's just not in their triplet nature.
Matthew and Jonathan are a whole different story.
They are highly active, highly curious and stubborn.
I have become so accustomed to planning outings in fence-in areas, running errands at night when my husband is home, and instinctively dreaming up new distractions before the current ones wear off, that I forget just how powerful this combined temperamental force is, and just how often I bow to it.
Until it hits me head-on.
Like yesterday.
Over the past few days, I have been trying to plan an afternoon play date with a mom of 3-year-old boy. My first suggestion was a fenced-in playground. I never considered anyplace else. The children's gym that I often rely on closes at 2 p.m.
Fortunately, the other mom liked the idea.
But then it rained.
I was baffled.
These guys refuse to ride in strollers or their wagon. When forced into either one, they take their anger out on each other, kicking and hitting like little mad men.
They will hold my hand for short durations, but when it's over, it's over. I've gotten very good at carrying them in a double football hold.
In frustration, I once resorted to those harnesses, the cute little puppy ones that look like backpacks. Matthew and Jonathan sat on the concrete as soon as they realized that their freedom was limited and refused to budge.
Anybody need a couple of barely used harnesses?
So, on rainy days in the late afternoon when we've already been to the YMCA and the children's gym is closed, we go nowhere. That's home time. Dangerous time. It's the kind of time when toy dolphins swim in toilet water, glass coffee tables become human launching pads and the entire main floor becomes a highly dangerous race track.
But I really wanted to meet up with this mom, a fellow writer, so I decided that for once, I would just have to be brave.
She had suggested Joseph-Beth Booksellers, a large book store about 25 minutes from home. She assured me that the bookstore had a separate children's area with a train table and a play kitchen, two of the twins' favorite things.
So we went.
And, to my amazement, we survived.
With their newness, the kitchen and the trains were the main attraction. By the time they'd lost interest, her son was ready to leave to. We walked out of Joseph-Beth holding hands, carrying the price of admission: two stuffed snakes.
It will be quite a while before we can return. After my new friend left, Jonathan found the door and tried to leave. Meanwhile, Matthew had gone back to the snakes and was pulling them off the display one by one.
They were getting to comfortable.
The newness had worn off.
Still, it was nice.
It was different.
It gave me hope.
Maybe someday I'll even be able to browse the books.