Forever and Ever

On my 6th birthday, my grandmother called me on the telephone and said:

When I was One,
I had just begun.
When I was Two,
I was hardly new.
When I was Three,
I was barely me.
When I was four,
I was not much more.
When I was Five,
I was just alive.
But now I am Six, I'm as clever as clever.
So I think I'll be Six now forever and ever.

And then my grandmother told me that I must memorize the poem, and that she would call another day to ensure I had. I memorized the poem. Twenty eight years later, I can still remember talking to her that day. And it seems so long ago.

Today, my babies turned six.

SIX!

And I find it difficult to believe that Katie and Bethie, my babies, are now six years old. They are on the cusp of great learning, great friendships, and great adventures. They have so many choices and opportunities. The possibilities are endless.

Yet, I want to hold them close to me. I don't want to let them go.

I'm trying to tell myself that they are getting older, more capable. They are becoming "big girls". But when I see them sleeping at night, one sucking her thumb and holding a fluffy, the other cuddled with her two bears, I find that hard to accept.

These "big girls" still need lots of cuddles. They still become upset when a sister touches their crayons. They still believe that fairies come out a night. Okay, Katie doesn't. Katie thinks I tell her stupid little lies for my own amusement. But they both believe that our garden gnomes frolic while they sleep.

They are still so little.

Tonight, on their sixth birthday, I think back to the day they were born. Tiny, premature, and utterly helpless. We've come a long way over the last six years. I also look to the future, knowing that they will continue to thrive, excel, and soar. I'm excited for them, but there's a big part of me that wishes they would "be Six now forever and ever".

Before and After

I sent my twinnies to kindergarten. I was very worried. They were so sweet and delicate and tender-hearted. I had spent five years sheltering them from the harsh realities of the Big Bad World, and then I thrusted them into it.

Before:

After a year in kindergarten, they have learned to read and write. They have decided that I am not the smartest person in the whole wide world. I have been usurped by their kindergarten classmates and their teacher. They have learned all the swear words (although I may have played a role in that part of their education...sigh).

And now they are different. More wonderful (if that is possible). And I'm soooo excited to spend the summer with them!

After:

The Dress

My children love clothes. The love to wear dresses, and to look pretty, and to twirl like princesses. They really love crinoline.

The summer of 2008, the twinnies wore these dresses all the time:

And it's funny because I had a newborn. In comparison, the twinnies seemed so much older, so much more competent, so much more independent.

And then this happened:

The "newborn" now fits into the dress.

I am shocked at how quickly time passes...

Two Singletons

I have twins.

Identical twins.

It's funny. Some people swear that they can tell the twins apart. Some people swear that there are no differences between them. The truth lies somewhere in the middle.

I got a call from the kindergarten teacher this morning. She would like to put the twinnies into different classes when they enter grade one.

Not because they are suffering academically. They're doing beautifully, in fact. Not because they are suffering socially. They love to play with the other children.

The teacher would like to separate the twinnies because she, and the students, can't tell the twinnies apart. After almost nine months.

Being a twin is special. I don't think that we should be so quick to separate twins based solely on the fact that they look similar. I don't think the objective should be to create two singletons. To make them like everyone else. To make them "normal". Especially because my twins thrive on being twins. And they are doing exceedingly well in all aspects of their lives.

The teacher is a kind woman. A good woman. A clever woman. She has done her best to be fair and considerate and compassionate. I have the utmost respect for her, and her opinions. But my heart has broken.


Because when I look a the twinnies,

I see the child, not the unit.

I see a little girl who rages like a thunder storm, yet is instantly calmed when a cotton ball is placed in her hand. This child sees the world in black and white, right and wrong. And in case you were wondering, she's right and everyone else is wrong. The world is her stage, and she lives to perform.

Katie

I see a little girl who is ruled by loyalty and love. She wears her heart on her sleeve, and that heart bleeds for everybody. She is a thinker, and lies in her bed figuring things out. She studies the details. She's quick to laugh. She loves being outside.

Bethie

And it breaks my heart that people can't see beyond the unit to see the individual. The individuals are worth knowing because they're special. The unit is worth preserving because it's special.

I used to dress the twinnies identically because they looked super cute and they preferred to have the same outfits on. Now, (most of the time) they don't care if they are dressed identically or not. I let them choose what they wear. I figure that one day, they will want to be in separate classes and have different friends. And I will support them. Until then, I will allow them to remain together. Because I have spent five years with my twinnies, because I know both of them collectively and individually, because I know them best.

Three

My Littlest One turned three on Sunday.

Sarah - opening her gift from Bethie

Sarah - opening the gift from Katie

Playing every body's favourite game, "Catch A Twin"

Trying out her Crayola Bubbles

After using Crayola Bubbles. Sigh.

"Helping" to make the birthday cake.

MORE PRESENTS!!! (Some for the twinnies, too!)

The "Dora Cake"... otherwise known as "Birthday Mush" (it didn't quite work out) 

Blowing out the candles.

I can't believe that she's THREE!!!!

My Sarahburrah

The Helpful One

The twins never hit the "I want to help!" stage (or the "I want to do it BY MYSELF!" stage, for that matter). I wonder how long this will last?

Speechless

I have never participated in "Wordless Wednesday". I have too much to say.

Until I saw this:

Bethie got hungry, I guess.

Katie caught me off guard, too. She said, "Trevor says FU. And Jason says FU. Know what Ethan's favourite letters are? FU. Also, Ted on the bus says FU all the time!". I responded by saying, "Will you please stop saying FU because it's upsetting me!". So now, Katie only whispers it in my ear when she's ratting out her classmates.

And I am absolutely speechless.

The Peanut Gallery

The world is a stage, according to Shakespeare and my twinnies.

Katie and Bethie love to perform. In the mall, in the park, in the grocery store. If there is an audience, they will put on a show.

Katie would like Dan to build a stage for her ... on our front lawn. She envisions herself entertaining the neighbours as they walk pass our house, heading to and from the bus stop. Bethie thinks it would be super to decorate this stage with Christmas lights, so it will look fancy. Much to Dan's relief, I have refused to build a stage on my front lawn.

So Katie and Bethie are left to performing in their usual locales. Recently, they did a recital on the stairs...

Bethie was singing, Katie was conducting.

This was all very well and good, but they needed an audience. Dan and I were too busy, so they had to make do...



Their bears weren't appreciative enough. They didn't clap and cheer and tell the twinnies how clever they are.

Another audience member was required. One that would sit and watch performance after performance, whether she wanted to or not.

Thank God, we had another child...

The Younger Sister

Katie helped her baby sister, Sarah, put on her snow suit....

...because she's so cute...

...Sarah drove her toboggan over Katie...

...that was payback for drawing "tattoos" on Sarah's face!

New Uses For Old Toys

When the twins were about 18 months old, Dad was awed by their "musical genius". So, he bought them a toy piano.

Dad thought that the twins would enjoy being able to create "music" themselves. He envisioned them bopping around to the the grating lovely melodies that this toy emitted. And, for a while, Katie and Bethie, did.

Then the batteries died.

Then Sarah came along.

Then the twins got older and lost interest in their little piano.

Time passed, but I never got rid of the piano. The children found a new use for it.

They balance on the piano in order to turn the TV on or off. And it scares the Hell out of me! But I leave it there because if they lose the ability to control the TV, then I have to do it. I prefer that they learn self-sufficiency (I can't even type that using a straight face!). 
I should have seen it coming...

(Mum's piano. Spring 2009)

The Parent/Teacher Conference

The parent/teacher conference went well. Or, more accurately, well enough. I had planned to have all three children in daycare when I went to the conference. Instead, I had to bring Bethie with me, while my Dad babysat Sarah and Katie. Sigh. That's a super long story best saved for another day...

Miss N started off by saying that she thinks that Katie and Bethie should be put into separate classes next year. My response? "No". She went on to explain that Katie is more independent than Bethie. Bethie's self-esteem is wrapped up in Katie. Perhaps being in a different class would help Bethie "come into her own". Again, "no". We went back and forth for a while before I pointed out that the next school year is 10 months away, and we can worry about this later.

Miss N said that she didn't really have any concerns about the twins and asked about my conerns. I told her that I view kindergarten as an "introduction" to school. I want them to learn to respect others while continuing to respect themselves. I want them to learn the rules and routines of school. I want them to thrive socially. Miss N has higher hopes. She hoped that they would learn things like reading and writing and math. Yeah, I kinda thought that went without saying.

Miss N said that the girls were very polite, and helped clean up, and were a pleasure to teach. Super. Then she said to me "There are some characteristics that we think are excellent in adults: loyalty, fighting the current, questioning authority. But, in five year olds, we need to temper these qualities." I had to laugh. I know what Miss N means. My children have a lot of my characteristics. They are tiny versions of me. But I'm 27 (ish). I have earned some of my..."difficult" characteristics. They are 5 years old. They haven't earned bitchy yet. But I'm not about to un-teach their loyalty for one another (and for every member of this family). I pray every night that they stop questioning authority...okay, stop questioning my authority. But I am thrilled that they think for themselves. That they have an innate sense of how things should be, and what they want for themselves, and stand up for these things. I am proud that they do things the "hard way", knowing that the end justifies the means. I have strong daughters. Thank God.

Miss N showed me their journals. She said that most children simply scribble or write letters randomly. My little Mary Wollstonecrafts write phonetically. Both of them! The only ones in their class! I was thrilled!!! Miss N went on to say how well they were doing in math. They have a very good grasp of numbers and addition. Yup, my children are brilliant!

While wrapping things up, Miss N said that all of my children (I had brought Sarah with my for my "emergency" conference last week) were extremely well behaved. They play beautifully with others, and play quietly by themselves. She said that they are good-natured and easily pleased. They are an absolute joy to be around. Right. I told her to come by my house around dinner time. They're not so charming then!

Toilet Tag

As a little girl, I loved recess. I used to jump rope, play hopscotch, sing little songs with my classmates, and play Freeze Tag. Ahhh, the good 'ol days....

My twinnies are in kindergarten. When the school year began, they loved recess. In fact, when we asked about their day at school, they would only mention the games they played while outside with their classmates. We would get blank stares when we asked, "But what did you learn today?".

Things started changing a couple of weeks ago. Bethie stopped playing with her classmates at recess. When I tried to find out why, she said that she didn't want to play with her class because they would play "inappropriate" games (yup, that's how my kids speak. Sigh). When pressed, she told me about Toilet Tag.

Here's how to play: One person is "It". This child tries to tag as many children as possible. "When a player is tagged, he/she must assume a toilet position (one knee on the ground and the other knee up, one arm straight out to the side).  The tagged player must remain frozen in this position until they are rescued by another player.  To be rescued, a player must sit on the knee of the frozen player, grab their straight arm and make a WHOOSH sound while pulling the arm down to simulate the flushing of a commode.  Once a player flushes the toilet of a frozen player, the frozen player is freed." (Mr. Gym).

I was horrified to learn that the children play this in the school yard. This is a disgusting and scatological game! I was proud of my daughter. She had decided that she didn't want to be used as a "toilet" and did not want children to pretend to urinate and defecate on her. At age 5, she stood up to the crowd. What a strong and proud daughter I have!

There were other problems for Bethie at school, so I wrote a note and asked to speak with the teacher. Yesterday, Miss N and I sat down and talked about the issues that Bethie faces in school. When we came to the games of Toilet Tag being played in the school yard, Miss N said "I think that may be my fault. I taught the children to play this in gym class".

I was, truly, speechless. I was shocked. Miss N is about my age. She's a mother. She's an experienced teacher. How is it that she and I have such vastly different views on the appropriateness of this game?

In my shock-induced silence, all I kept thinking was that this is a "Tribes School". This means that there is a super heavy focus on the "four agreements": Mutual Respect, Listening, Appreciation, and Participation. How can the school foster "mutual respect" when asking the children to pretend to be toilets?
We kinda glossed over the whole Toilet Tag because we moved onto matters that I thought to be more serious. But it haunted me. Am I being a prude? Am I so out-of-touch? Should I just keep my mouth shout?

I don't know what to do. I am at a loss. If any of you have any thoughts about Toilet Tag, please let me know.

The Princess, The Bride, and The Pumpkin Head

The other day, someone asked me what differences they should look for in the twins. I told them that Katie wears the tiara. All the time. She is a princess, you know.

Bethie isn't so flashy. She wears Sarah's tu tu on her head thereby transforming herself into the Bride...of Christ. I'm not kidding.

Sarah was jealous. She had no tiara and no longer had a tu tu. So Dan put a pumpkin on her head and cheered her up.

You're laughing, but these are the people I am relying on to fund my retirement. It's not looking good!

She Who Laughs Last...

When Dan and I decided to have children, we realised that there would be a lot of sacrifices. Sleep, vacations, our savings account, natural hair colour. Little things that we loved we would have to do without.

We understood that we would have to baby-proof our home in order to protect the children and our personal belongings. We would have to be careful about leaving things lying around. Little fingers do big damage.

And so, I will accept full responsibility for the library book that Sarah coloured. Not just a little scribble, but rainbows on every page. I shouldn't have left it on the shelf out of her reach. It was just too tempting a challenge. But I am sure that it will please and delight the next person who reads "Forty Ways To Look At Winston Churchill". Ha! Now, there's Forty-One ways to look at Winston Churchill!

But I will not accept responsibility for the children colouring the couch. Because, really, what on Earth would possess them to colour my couch? I guess it was the same nasty instinct that made them colour the living room table. And the living room floor. And the bedroom door. And the kitchen cabinets (a little jack-o-lantern sketch for Halloween!).

I know, I know, these things happen. You can't expect the children to be perfect all the time. Some things are going to get bumped and bruised. I accept that.

What I don't accept is how Dan's much adored, flat screen TV, given to us as a gift, and is 4 feet off the ground somehow, "accidentally", got crayon on it! When I asked the three blank-faced children how the orange crayon got all over Daddy's TV, they seemed confused. They looked at the ceiling, and then at the door, and said "I don't see any orange crayon". To which I sweetly replied, "LOOK AT THE TV!". When further pressed, I was informed it was "an accident".

Right. Someone accidentally got a stool from the other room, and carried it all the way to the living room. Then, that child accidentally climbed that stool. Then, she realised that she accidentally forgot her crayon, climbed down the stool, found a crayon, climbed back up the stool, and accidentally coloured the TV because she thought it was a colouring book.

I totally buy that.

So tonight, I am going to "accidentally" think the clock reads 7pm (bedtime) when it's actually 6pm. That's right, my babies, check and mate.

My Philosophy

I am a nice person. Kind. Considerate. Compassionate. Sweet. I try to be good to small children and the elderly. I give to homeless people at every opportunity (one even knows me by name and asks after the children!). I believe in non-violence. I have always admired brains over brawn. I'm a "Use your voice, not your fists" kinda girl...until I had children.

I have three daughters. Girly girls. Delicate little things.

They are nothing like me. This has caused me a great deal of anxiety. I don't want my girls to be pushed around. I don't want their good-nature to be abused. I want them to be strong. To be loud. To fear no one. I want them to be better than I ever was.

So, there's this demon-child in the kindergarten class with the twinnies. We'll call her Chantal (because in the third grade I hated Chantal sooooo much!). Chantal has decided that she just loves my little girls. So much that she feels compelled to pick them up and hug them, then drop them unceremoniously to the ground. I know she does this because

1. Katie told me
2. Bethie told me
3. Dan saw it in action (but thought it looked like great fun and DID NOT intervene)

Katie and Bethie enjoy the hugs,  but are upset about bouncing off the pavement afterwards. At first, they tried running away from Chantal. But Chantal would chase after them. Then they told Chantal that they didn't want to be hugged anymore, but Chantal refused to cease and desist. The twins then reported Chantal's behaviour to TWO teachers. Those teachers were unable to stop the "love fest". Katie and Bethie decided to pull out the big guns: they told me.

BOOM!

Yup, I went off like a rocket. How dare Chantal put her hands on my children!

The twinnies and I had a little chat. We talked about respect. We talked about appropriate behaviour. We talked about soliciting help. We talked about how they are not allowed to play with children who hurt them.

Then we talked about the facts of life.

Here are my facts:

1. Let people know that their behaviour or words hurt you
2. Give them a chance to correct the situation
3. If that doesn't work, appeal to a higher authority
4. If that doesn't work, take care of the situation yourself (do it hard and fast)
5. Remember, there are TWO of you. Always help your sister. There is power in numbers.

I feel that my children were not put on this Earth to be terrorized.They can learn it now, or they can learn it when they are 30. The easy way, or the hard way. Either way, it will end! And that is what I included in the note that I sent to school.

I received no response from the teacher.

I am beside myself. Fixated. Obsessed. Enraged.

The next time something like this happens, I will not send a note.

The teacher can respond, or not, to my face.

Prima Ballerinas

I let the twins play outside...alone. We live on a quiet street, with very little traffic. The girls aren't "up to no good". They usually just pretend they are princesses and dance about. And I get a little break.

Katie and Bethie had been outside for a while before they came bursting in the front door shouting, "Come and watch our performance!". I dropped what I was doing, and went outside to watch my little ballerinas sing and dance.

I took the camera.


Although the show was wonderful, I must confess, I was distracted. What could possibly distract me from their angelic voices and gracefully dancing?

This.

Bethie and Katie had raced around my gardens picking almost all my marigolds so they could "fancy up" their "stage". AHHH!

The best bit was this:

These were the flowers that I was meant to toss at the twins after their performance. They had thought of everything!