Today, I had this total Ally McBeal moment.
I was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to drink my luke warm cup of tea, and the Two just couldn’t sort their shit out.
And by that, I mean they had to be physically separated and pushed in opposite directions.
And just as I sat back down, like two super magnets straight out of an ACME box, they were pulled together for more intense Slap Fight shenanigans.
And in my head, I imagined picking up the rolling pin and chasing them down, flattening them and rolling them out, hanging them on the line (opposite sides) and spinning it around.
Because THAT would totally fix them.
Unfortunately there is no film crew in my head to document these Ally McBeal moments of mine.
Instead you get to know the rolling pin and I did no chasing of any small children.
And my clothes line remained empty of both laundry and children for yet another day in the continuing saga of The Zombie Eye Disease.
All day I ran after the Two. All day keeping them from maiming their own doppelgänger.
And all day I kept thinking – who the hell would wish this on ANYONE??
People are always telling me how a amazing twins are and as some cruel joke, every time I’m just about to bash MY head against the floor I hear a banal voice play through my head:
“Twins are SOOOO amazing! I wish I had twins!”
Yes. I wish you had twins too. So that you would NEVER say that to me again.
But then I took a photo. Of them standing together. Meant for their Aunty to show her their new haircuts.
And I realise. For the 57 billionth time.
They are identical. Genetically – the same.
They are so different. So alive with their ownness.
I can’t describe to you the fullness of my heart knowing I created two beings who love me and whom I love. Simultaneously.
It’s all encompassing, twin motherhood.
It’s easy to forget there’s another child here some days. Mind you, Roo does a spectacular job of reminding me.
All day these boys, they fought. They caused trouble for one another. Hurts. Sadness. All out war.
And then, just now I was resettling Fraser – the boy who struggles to settle himself down, yet sleeps the longest.
And I hushed him, and tried to quietly walk through his room to place him back in his pushed-up-next-to-his-brother’s bed without waking Oscar.
And I said: “Is Osky asleep?”
And he said: “Yeah Mum.”
And I whispered: “Well let’s try not to wake him up, ok?”
And he whispered back: “Yeah Mum. Mum?”
“Oscar hold my hand.”
“Did he hold your hand while he fell asleep?”
And I catch my breath.
Because the reason Fraser hasn’t settled is because Oscar has fallen asleep before him.
And stopped holding his hand.
So I lay down next to my biggest little big man, and I sing him a song. And I ask him:
“Do you want to be closer to Osky?”
So I move his pillow closer, and place Fraser’s hand gently on Oscar’s chest. And his eyes close, and his mouth relaxes.
And I know that these Two, my Two?