On reaching twin nirvana

Don’t get me wrong before you read this.  Today I’m exhausted.  I’ve slopped on my pj’s and it’s still light outside.  The guys have been swimming, we’ve hung out with friends, my house looks like a giant monster smashed the inside and I have attempted to bake something that exploded in the oven (and tonight I’m just going to leave it as is.)  We’ve had a couple tantrums (including mine) thrown in.  And I ate toast crusts for breakfast. Twin sets of toast crusts.

But we are nearing the 5 year mark and I thought I better share a little bit of the glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel that I needed way long ago when I had baby twins.  We’ve come a long long way.

I didn’t read much back then.  I just wanted to survive.  Between the night wakings and the pumpings and the nursing and the twin diaper changing, I just wanted the kids to grow up already.  We had fun, but I know I was a walking zombie and two babies at the same time is just the toughest thing ever.  I remember days when I’d make a mistake once and then walk right into the same mistake with the other baby because I didn’t realize what rookie moves I was pulling.  I brushed my teeth with diaper cream.  I wore spit-up covered clothes and was thankful they weren’t poo-covered clothes.  I couldn’t handle poo-covered anything so when that happened, I just cut the soiled clothing off the babies and threw them away so I wouldn’t have to deal with figuring out how to wash them off.  The learning curve was very steep.

And then there was a magical time before my twin guys walked that made me think that twins were the loveliest thing in the world and we had picnics, playdates, gurgly words, matching outfits and goopy drooly smiles.  And then potty training happened and I was carting a potty in a paper Trader Joe’s bag with us to all of our soccer/gymnastic/music classes and park outings and if I didn’t bring that, I never strayed too far from our van mobile-outhouse in the case of a potty emergency because public toilets with two un-strollered little ones inevitably ended up with at least one of us totally drenched. I had gotten past the TIME OF NO SLEEP and the learning to walk phase, but the potty thing was really getting me.  There was poop and pee everywhere.  I can’t imagine anything tougher than potty training twins.  Especially if you have an aversion to that kind of thing to begin with. (And I’m not sure why we threw in a lot of travel in the mix, but I think it made things even more exciting and unpredictable on top of all that craziness.)

And then I found an article that was like this beacon of hope that said “FOUR” is a perfect year with twins and I wish I could find it now to prove it really existed so I could hug that mom and tell her how much that meant to me and how powerful that little glowing piece of hope was for me.  Four years old really is magical in the twin world.

I think it may even be the loveliest year we’ve ever had together.  When I look at the guys at the end of their day (7pm-thank God!) and think about how exhausted we all are and how peacefully they sleep, I can’t help but wonder how these two growing guys were once such teeny tiny screaming little wiggly creators of poo.  And I can’t believe how fast they are growing.

They are such good friends.  They play and imagine and make believe.

They bike.

And explore.

    .

And show me all the exciting and dangerous things they’ve learned to do.

I wonder what 5 is like?

But does it really matter anymore?  Not at four.  Now I just want time to stop for a little while.  I want to take it all in and enjoy.

Because they aren’t babies anymore.

And I can tell.

They are four, almost five.  And it’s perfect.

Terumi

Terumi Pong is a Seattle-based family travel writer and mom of twin teenage boys.  She loves coffee and pastries, shopping local and looking for greener ways to live.  She is also known as Scout’s mom (Scout is a 5ish pound little black yorkie-poo)