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.

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.

A closer look

It's strange and, maybe, it's just a phase, but I find that I rarely think of Matthew and Jonathan as identical twins these days.
All I can figure is that I am so focused on the intimate, complex achievements that come with this age, that I am unable to step back and see them from any kind of distance anymore. Their recent developments have given me the opportunity to see the minutia and, in the minutia, I see two little people who are so very different from each other.
For instance, language has given them the tools to verbally express their individuality, like Jonathan and his obsession with Swiper the Fox, an obsession that Matthew does not share:
"Swiper?"
"Fox?"
"Sneaky?"
"Naughty?"
"Oh man!"
(Repeat ten times and insist that mom repeat each word as affirmation that she is listening.)
Or Matthew with his bathing preferences, preferences that Jonathan clearly does not share:
"No toys!" Matthew shrieks as a small zebra, a cup and a teething ring come flying out of the bathtub. Jonathan stands, reaches in vain for the discarded playthings and then throws his hands up and cries.
"Toys done," Matthew says triumphantly. "No toys!"
Improved mobility and agility has given them the skills to individually test their physical limits while also applying the techniques of observation and manipulation.
For instance, Matthew has learned to appear fully absorbed in play in their fenced-in area out back, leaving me with a sense of security as I try to sneak inside for a moment to unload the dishwasher. As soon as my back is turned, he is over the fence and around the front of the house. Jonathan remains fenced in, too awed to throw a leg over and follow.
Jonathan, meanwhile, is focused on his jumping skills. He arranges bean bag chairs a few feet away from the sofa and then, calculating the distance just perfectly, he leaps from the sofa into the bean bag chairs face-first.
Greater reasoning ability, empathy and perspective has given them both the skills to manipulate their environment and the people in it to their liking.
A few examples:
Matthew will turn my head in his direction with his tiny hands, cock his own head in the cutest little way, scrunch his eyes just right and say, "Cars? Watch Cars?" He knows he makes my heart melt. He knows I can't resist. In goes the Cars DVD.
Jonathan keeps one eye on his brother and waits for that moment when Matthew wants to cuddle with me. Then he runs over, pushes his twin brother aside, climbs into my arms and declares, "Mine! Mine!" As soon as Matthew loses interest in the battle for attention, Jonathan slips off my lap and resumes play.
Matthew climbs onto the sofa, lays his head on a pillow and covers himself with a blanket, just like his older brother does each morning when he first wakes up. And then, in his desire to complete the charade, he says, "Ovaltine? Ovaltine?" requesting his idol's favorite drink and hoping it gets his attention.
Sometimes, when I am crouched down, picking raisins off the floor, scrubbing milk out of the carpet or scooping up bits of crushed crackers, I'll feel two perfect hands tickle my neck and Jonathan will be standing right in front of me. He'll say "love!" and then kiss me right on the lips. Just as he predicts, I stop what I'm doing and cradle this amazing human being.
It was a lot easier when the twins were more like a unit, when I could step back and say this is who "they" are, this is what "they" do, how "they" behave. Still, I wouldn't ever want to be positioned so far away again.
This new phase is exhausting, but it's also exhilarating.
I am finally getting the chance to know them, to know them as individuals.
As Matthew and Jonathan, brothers who just happen to both be two.

Anger management

When Matthew and Jonathan are angry with each other, they do what many siblings their age do: they hit each other.
So what do they do when they are angry with me?
They hit each other.
I haven't quite figured this one out.
I've talked to other twin moms, assuming this must be a common issue.
It's not.
No one had answers for me.
All I can figure is that jealousy plays a role; Matthew and Jonathan are so accustomed to each other that, somehow, whenever they are angry with me, they figure it must be the other twin's fault.
This phase has convinced us of one thing: it is time to work harder at separating them now and then. They need to learn to handle their emotions as individuals, not as a team.
Since it seems that we're at the grocery store just about every day, that's where we'll start.
A trip for Jonathan today.
A trip for Matthew tomorrow.
And maybe, just maybe it will work.
Maybe, next time I evoke their fury, they'll channel their emotions appropriately.
They'll hit me instead of each other.
Wait a minute ...
What the heck are we doing?

Twins are dangerous

Twins are dangerous, especially at two years old.
I concluded that today when I realized that I couldn't do dishes with fresh cuts on three of my knuckles on my right hand. Only one injury was new, but the other two had occurred within the past 24 hours and had reopened during the last incident.
All three can be blamed on the twins.
The first knuckle scratch happened when I was trying to scoop food up from underneath the dining room table. The twins had tossed their lunch freely throughout the dining room, a favorite game of theirs. I was hurrying because Jonathan was anxious to squish the very-soft green beans into the floorboards.
I turned a bit too quickly and hit my head.
As I reached for my head, I scraped my knuckle on the rough wood under the table.
The second incident was diaper-related.
I was reaching for a diaper in the cabinet above the changing table while trying to keep Matthew from kicking me. He does that when he prefers nakedness and I insist on clothing. Just as my hand grasped the diaper, I got a foot in my stomach. I yanked my right hand back and scraped the knuckle on the cabinet door.
The third incident occurred this morning.
Both boys had stripped while I was in the bathroom. I found Matthew leaning causally against the sofa while peeing on the carpet. I rushed to get him on a potty and spied Jonathan peeing on the hardwood by the front door.
It was too late for Matthew anyway, so I put him down and grabbed some paper towel, hoping to at least soak up some of Jonathan's mess before anyone slid in it. As I passed Matthew, he started peeing again.
I threw my arms out in exasperation and caught my knuckles on the edge of the counter top, creating a new cut and reopening the other two.
To make matters worse, I have a Band-Aid on my fingertip. That incident was unrelated. I was trying to re-cork a bottle of wine and cut my finger on some remaining foil.
But wait.
Why did I drink that red wine last night?
Oh yea, the twins.
See what I mean?
Twins are dangerous.

The games that they play

They are not even two yet.
Not quite.
I have a few weeks left.
But it seems that Matthew and Jonathan can't wait.
They are playing like devious preschoolers.
They have always interacted with each other.
As newborns, we would place them on opposite ends of the crib, all swaddled in their receiving blankets. Fifteen minutes later, we would find them in the middle of the crib, side-by-side with blankets undone and heads touching.
By four months, old, the grunting had begun. They were like tiny caveman, exchanging grunts and giggles.
People stared.
Games of chase came with toddlerhood. Shouts of "Go, go, go," from one twin would trigger laps through the kitchen, dining room and living room with one toddler fast on the heels of the other. They even set up obstacle courses of sorts and took turns completing them.
The most popular went like this:
lay down and kick the safety gate; run to the recliner and slap hands on the leather (laugh); run over to the pillow they had thrown on the floor in just the right spot and jump.
Laugh like crazy and start over.
They were amazing and we were proud.
But, in the past few weeks, they have taken their level of play up a few notches. And it's all about games.
There is the usual stuff: tag, wrestling, cheering each other on as they run and leap into their bean bag chairs.
Then there are the creative ones: beg mom to let them color, "accidentally" throw a crayon on the floor, wait for her to pick it up and then pelt her with orange, green, blue and pink as she squats; grab sippy cups and dance with them, chanting "Aye, aye, aye," which, for some reason, makes them each laugh so hard, they can't breathe; "set" the table when mom isn't looking; set up Hot Wheel tracks all by themselves by sticking one end into the sofa and creating a ramp.
If that's not enough, they have both developed the cackle, that cackle the says, "Hee, hee! We've just pulled one over on mom. Let's watch her turn red and growl when she sees it!"
My babies didn't do this.
The worst part about this new phase of theirs is that I get absolutely nothing done.
Not a thing.
Not because they are into everything, moving nonstop and fearless.
But because I can't stop watching.
I am amazed and proud.