Friendly indifference

I had always figured that Matthew and Jonathan's friends would easily be able to tell them apart.
Isn't that part of the magic of childhood? This extra sense that kids have, the lack of filters that allow them to see things as they are?
So I was disappointed the other day at preschool when Matthew's best friend tapped Jonathan on the shoulder and called him by his brother's name. Jonathan ignored him expect for the shrug indicating his annoyance at the constant interruption.
I politely pointed out his mistake and directed him to Matthew who just right next to Jonathan.
The boy gave me a puzzled look and then tapped Jonathan on the shoulder again.
"Matthew, Matthew. Come play," he said, his taps increasing in frequency. "Matthew."
I gave up.
These are the things I worry about.
It will be hard enough when adults mix them up as they grow older, but their friends?
I recently read about a 7-year-old girl who was shunned by a group of her peers for no apparent reason. She later learned that her identical twin sister had done something to upset them. They didn't change their stance when she explained the situation.
They chose not to differentiate between the two.
Jonathan and Matthew enjoy having different friends, though they all play together nicely. I hope that this boy is an exception. Another friend, the one Jonathan claims as his closest, tries. He doesn't always get it right, but he at least makes an effort.
If he is unsure, he figures it out within few minutes of play.
A little girl who greets us daily when we enter the classroom always asks me who is who first thing. She wants to be clear. She's always felt that need to know who is who.
I haven't paid enough attention to the others.
I have told the boys over and over again that people will mix them up and that they should forgive them. Simply correct them and forgive them. But I think I might have to revise that tutorial when they outgrow preschool and begin their elementary years.
We all make mistakes.
People will mix them up.
But if they are not sure, they should ask.
And if Matthew and Jonathan politely correct them, they should apologize and make an effort in the future.
I guess all I'm asking for is an effort.
Try to see Matthew.
Try to see Jonathan.
They are two boys, not one.

Twins divided, naturally and happily

A new dynamic is moving through our house.
Jonathan has ditched his twin brother as his best friend in favor of his older brother Riley, who is almost 11.
He draws pictures for him, fetches him Popsicles and emulates his every gesture, word and move when he is around.
When Riley is in school or otherwise occupied, Jonathan turns back to Matthew again, taking up where he left off.
This worried me at first.
How would Matthew handle the loss?
My heart ached for him.
Needlessly.
As always, Matthew and Jonathan have surprised me.
Matthew isn't the least bit bothered by Jonathan's new allegiance, no more so than he is bothered when Jonathan plays with other children in school. A comfort level seems to exits between the two of them that allows them to explore other relationships without diminishing their own.
I would like to believe that we have contributed to that confidence by never forcing them to separate. Yes, they have gone off on their own with my husband or I at different times, mostly on errands. Occasionally, for a bite to eat.
But we have never felt the need to enroll them in different activities or classes simply to foster their individuality. We have never felt the need to tear them apart unnaturally.
Instead, they are teaching us to be patient, to step back and let them grow apart as we let them grow together. The pressure is on -- always -- from those who believe that forced separation is the only healthy way to raise identical twins. But forced separation is no healthier than forcing a shared identity through matching clothing, lumped nicknames  or constantly calling attention to the fact that they are twins.
They are who they are.
And we love who they are.
We'll make mistakes along the way and plenty of them. But Jonathan's affection for Riley and Matthew's reaction to it have assured me that we are on the right track. And we have one very proud big brother, who is who amused and thrilled by his new status.
For now.

Imagination explosion

(Above: A birthday interview with Matthew and Jonathan)

Just the other day, Matthew noticed a small embroidered palm tree on a beach towel. Within minutes, the towel was stretched across the floor and he and Jonathan were pirates, seeking lost treasures throughout the living room.
Only an hour earlier, they had been at the beach, wearing their swim trunks in the bathtub. Before that, I heard long tales about Dino Dan's impending visit. He was bringing his mother and his little brother and it was his birthday.
Would I please bake a cake for him, they begged?
The day I have been waiting for has finally come.
Jonathan and Matthew have become so immersed in their imaginations that they often forget to wrestle, to pull the cushions off the sofa, to tear their beds apart, to dump water on the floor, to demand fruit treats, to tease the puppy, to tease their older siblings -- to do all the little things they used to do when they were bored and wanted to stir things up.
It is still a lot of work.
I often have to provide props or act a part in their imaginary worlds. But that's okay. I would rather be the bad guy fighting Leonardo and Batman than the stressed-out mother who runs out of options and patience when time-outs don't work, and then yells far more than she ever wanted to.
Even better, their new-found manner of play allows their older brother and sister to take part. On Tuesday, when all four kids were stuck home for a snow day, they all played Pokemon together. The older kids loved the fact that the twins understood the show and they laughed whenever Matthew and Jonathan chose their Pokemons and unleashed them.
I wrote an entire chapter of my next novel that day.
A whole chapter with all four kids at home.
And I didn't feel guilty because they we all busy and all happy.
We still have our moments and I'm sure we always will.
But what a relief.
What a huge, huge relief.

Happy birthday boys!

In an email exchange two years ago, I asked author/twin mom Susan Heim whether it gets easier as twins get older. Her boys were about 4 years old at the time.
"It's doesn't really get easier," she said. "Just different."
I thought I understood and, the day after Matthew and Jonathan celebrated their second birthday, I wrote this:

All I could think about--honestly--is that 2 is halfway to 4 and that by 4, they will be potty trained, they will respond to reason at some level, they will no longer need a stroller and they will talk in sentences.
That doesn't mean I want to rush them.
No, not at all.
I don't want them to grow up too fast. I adore their little kisses on my lips, cheeks and nose. I long for their tiny hands around my neck. I cherish their nonsensical exchanges that result in fits of giggles.
And, wow. That unconditional trust only babies and toddlers have. That belief that mom is all-powerful, all-knowing, all-everything. That she is flawless. I see that in their eyes as they reach for me. They believe that I can make anything better. They really do.
No, I don't want to rush through that.
But they exhaust me lately as much as they exhilarate me.
And I find the exhaustion much easier to contend with if I have something to look forward to.
So, on their birthday, while I was chasing them around the house trying desperately to persuade them to keep their clothes and diapers on at least until our neighbors arrived for cake and ice-cream, I focused on the future.
I focused on how much easier it will become instead thinking about how hard it sometimes has been. With that in mind, I found I could laugh at our little strippers and I caught them.
They made it through the evening fully clothed.

Silly, silly me.
Jonathan and Matthew turned four today.
It was an exciting day for me as well as for them. It was an emotional day. It was a trying day. It was exhausting.
Wonderfully exhausting, and loaded with strong little hugs and kisses.
They sang.
They danced.
They fought over the birthday song.
They hugged each other and pushed each other.
They cried a bit.
They laughed a lot.
Just as I had hoped two birthdays before, they are fully potty trained.
They understand reason on a fairly high level.
They no longer need a stroller, and they carry on long and fascinating conversations.
They are amazing human beings and my heart aches each day they grow just a little bit older-- each time they recognize the words "up" and "go" in books, each time they count on their little fingers, each time they create new, complicated games that include roles for me.
Part of me whimpers whenever they talk about their best friends: Jack for Jonathan; Adam for Matthew. I have to work hard to hold back when they want to put on their own clothes, cut their own food and ice skate on their own.
They rarely even let me carry their sleds.
I relish the moments when we cuddle.
I don't want to rush them.
I really don't.
But, as Susan said, four is not easier.
It's just different.
And, I have to admit, there is that little part of me that keeps saying, "Yippee! We're two-thirds of the way to six!"

Never say never: twins and harnesses

The question I am asked most frequently by parents of younger twins and that I see most often on online forums involves harnesses or leashes. Parents want to know whether I used them with my guys and, if I did, whether they worked.
Before Jonathan and Matthew walked, I will admit, I would have been mortified by the thought.
My older kids are 17 months apart. I taught them to stay with me by gradually allowing them more and more freedom from the stroller and returning them to the stroller when they misbehaved. And it worked beautifully.
If it worked for me, it should work for everyone.
Right?
But my older kids have inherently different personalities.
My oldest son is quiet, introspective and studious.
Rules are meant to be followed and he won't even let me break them.
My daughter is fiery, but she is a perfectionist.
She rarely ventured from me as a toddler because she wasn't supposed to, and that trait made disobedience disagreeable for her.
The older kids could play together with Playdough or Legos or Polly Pockets for hours at a time. They were easily entertained by activities that were mental, or by games that were intricately involved. They loved long hikes, but never really took to baseball or soccer or other competitive sports.
I had no idea how easy I had it.
The twins come from a whole different set of our genes.
Like their older siblings, they are very intelligent. But they were born to flex their muscles and that need overrules everything else. Bugs are for squishing, not studying. Crayons are for floors and walls, not paper. Imaginative games involve bad guys, running, chasing and wrestling rather than hours constructing cities, amusement parks and other worlds.
They never attempted to earn freedom; They simply took it.
By two years old, they were strong enough (They are very strong.) and tall enough (They are very tall.) to flip themselves over the sides of their stroller with the harnesses still on. I'd turn around to see them dangling from the sides, twisted in the straps.
Very dangerous.
No wagon was big enough to prevent them from kicking each other hard in the stomach and face every time I stopped and failed to set them free. They didn't even like it when I stopped the car at red lights. Forget about shopping. I couldn't stop to loook at anything.
Freedom and movement is what they craved above all else and they were determined to get it.
That might not have been a problem if not for the needs of the older kids.
The bus didn't come down our street, so I had two choices: walk them to the bus stop and fight constantly to keep the twins out of the road, out of the neighbors' lawns and out of the strollers of other parents; or take them into the school gym each day while I signed the older kids out and waited for them.
It soon became clear that the gym was the safer alternative.
At first, all was good.
The gym gave them ample space to run and play. Getting them to leave was a struggle, but I managed. Then they discovered the hallways. What a nightmare. I felt like I was the goalie in a fast-moving hockey game: always dodging to catch that puck before it passed through the net.
Unfortunately, there was no net to stop them.
So I broke down.
I did the thing I thought I would never do: I bought backpack leashes.
What a disaster.
Jonathan and Matthew loved them, of course. They were puppy backpacks and they were adorable. They wore them everywhere and they were quite proud. Until I touched that lead.
As soon as I put my hand on it, they plunked themselves down and refused to move. They kicked and screamed and yelled. They hollered and pushed and cried.
They suddenly realized that these cool puppy backpacks were a means of control and they weren't having any of it.
After about five attempts, I gave up.
Instead, I struggled with them daily physically and mentally, suffering a shoulder injured that lasted more than a year. I hired babysitters for short trips and errands just to avoid that struggle, and I enlisted other parents who took pity on me.
It was a tough year or two.
I wanted nothing more than for Jonathan and Matthew to grow up.
Now, at almost four years old, they are fairly good about staying with me because they understand consequences and danger. They know now that if they stray from me, they might become lost or a stranger might take them away. They understand injury and pain and how much it might hurt if a car or a truck hit them.
But the past two years could have been much better. We could have gone more places, enjoyed more sights, done with a lot less yelling. I could even have had pain-free use of my shoulder if those harnesses had only worked for us.
I still cringe when I see a couple with no other children using one on a child at that mall, or when I see a child yanking another sibling on a harness or when I see people who rely on them for every trip, everywhere never bothering to teach their children how to behave without them.
I still think some people misuse them.
But I now understand that there is a use for harnesses.
I no longer cringe at the thought of them.
Instead of disgust, I am more likely to be filled with envy for those for whom harnesses worked.
Thanks to Matthew and Jonathan, I have learned one very important lesson:
never say never.

Rendezvous with the guy in red

Both Matthew and Jonathan are fascinated with Santa.
They see him every chance they get, and they have no fear.
None whatsoever.
And they leave poor Santa with no time for "Ho, ho, ho" or "Merry Christmas." The cheery old guy is immediately bombarded with questions: "Is that your belt? Is it black? Is it magic? Are those your boots? Can I wear them? Why do you wear gloves? Are they white?"
Santa's appearance at preschool tonight gave the boys one more opportunity.
Matthew immediately headed for the costume rack and dressed up for Santa Claus with a suit vest, a suit coat and a beaded necklace. Jonathan played it cool with his animal tracks T-shirt. Both were equally persistent, however, when he asked what they wanted for Christmas.
"That bag," they said almost simultaneously, pointing to gift bags beside his chair.
Then a pause.
Then, "pleeeaaase!"

Matthew on left. Jonathan saying "cheeeeese!"

A very giddy Jonathan

Matthew wonders where the sleigh went.

Identical twins behave identically in groups, new study says

As Jonathan and Matthew grow into adulthood, they are likely to use the same set of moral and ethical guidelines to choose their friends and select the groups they join. They will also be equally stubborn when they have to decide whether to comprise their values when it comes to new group memberships.
The same is not true of fraternal twins.
This is according to a new study by researchers at the University of Edinburgh, published in the November issue of the journal, Psychological Science. Unfortunately, there is a fee to view that article online and it's all written in complicated academic jargon anyway. A free and less technical summary was published this week in the online magazine, Science Daily.
The Edinburgh researchers assessed 1,000 pairs of adult twins, both identical and fraternal, to determine whether genetics plays a role in loyalty toward social groups and in how flexible people can be in adapting to group memberships.
The overwhelming finding was that it does affect both membership and flexibility.
Identical twins, who share DNA, functioned equally well or equally poorly in groups, and used the same ethical, religious and racial criteria to make their decisions. The same was not evident of fraternal twins, no matter how well-bonded they were.
Analysts seem to think the study will have military uses.
I agree.
Already, I see that Matthew and Jonathan concur that Batman has a dark side and that the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are cool. They also seem to be equally stubborn about which toys are worth fighting over and they both like preschool.
Surely the military can do something with that.