Waking up each morning, I know that my day is going to go exactly how two little creatures decide it will go. The tone is set the moment I walk into the room. Each day it’s a new game of logistical prowess. Can I get them dressed and ready with no breakdowns? Can I outwit their cranky tendencies and keep them interested in things that are fun? Or will I be dragged down by petty fights, whining, crying and frivolous attack? It’s a toss up.
Getting dressed determines the day. I have learned the hard way that what might seem an innocuous request for a different jacket or pair of socks is really a trap. I no longer give them options. They cannot handle options. And since we have very few exactly matching outfits, I will almost never win the “choose which shirt you want to wear” game.
Having twins, I feel like the daily battles I fight must surely differ from that of parents of singletons or children spaced apart. They may have different, equally antagonizing behavior, but having twins must present its own unique set of fights and problems.
Without further ado, I give you my morning:
“Good morning, babies!”
Whargaarble. Oh, great, one of those days.
Natalina pipes up. “Ojoon jacket.” Seems reasonable, except that we only have one orange jacket, and Dulce always wears it.
“Yeah,” Dulce agrees. “Ojoon jacket.”
“Okay,” I say, making a rookie mistake. “Dulce will get the orange jacket and you can wear the pink jacket you always wear when Dulce wears the orange jacket.”
Tears and tantrums. No, I think. We are not doing this today. Not to mention, I’d already picked out the polka dotted outfits.
|I think they finally broke my camera. Sorry for the low quality.|
I tell them there will be no orange jacket today. Perhaps tomorrow. Today we are wearing the dots. I attempt to dress Dulce first. She usually wears the white. Natalina, however, decides that today she wants the white. Tears and tantrums.
Thankfully, Dulce is still caught up in the orange jacket desire. I sate her with an orange shirt, and for some heavenly reason, she decides not to fight for the white polka dots. I quickly switch the outfits with a sleight-of-hand skill I picked up when they turned about a year. Everything goes swimmingly for about two minutes while I dress Natalina.
Then she realizes that Dulce is getting the guitar underwear. This is my mistake. Natalina usually gets the guitar underwear, but, remember, I’d switched the outfits. I have to be strong and sternly tell her that she cannot have the guitar underwear today, even though I feel bad since it’s my error. If I attempted to make it right, I would have opened a can of worms from which there was no going back. This one would want those pants, the other would want something from the closet, and it would all end in an inferno of wailing and screaming over no good reason.
Luckily, Natalina grudgingly accepted her guitarless fate, but started fights over Dulce’s lovey. Then Dulce stole Natalina’s strawberry. Then one of them got hit by the other one. A group hug on the couch before Natalina breaks away and hides in her room, shutting the door on Dulce, causing pandemonium. Dulce steals Natalina’s fruit fork and puts it in the trash.
“Mama, my fork! Mine. Mine! Mama!”
They have been awake for two hours, and, really, this morning could have gone much worse. I feel quite talented for having avoided even more tantrums, even more extreme reactions. Still, if I hear “mine” one more time today, I may not make it.
Good morning, babies!
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