10 Questions Parents of Twins Get Asked, and How to Answer Them.

It has taken me nearly twelve years to have the strength to write this post.

For those of you who don't already know this, Banana and Squish are twins.  They came into our lives five weeks early at 35 weeks gestation, on July 10, 2003.  They spent three weeks in the NICU (Special Care Unit, actually) and were not in incubators for more than 24 hours after birth.  Except for Banana, who has always played to the beat of her own drummer.  She had some jaundice so went into an incubator for another 24 hours for phototherapy.  But other than that, both girls were breathing just fine on their own and though they were five weeks early and needed to learn how to suck properly, they were pretty healthy (if you consider Squish's constant projectile vomiting of every feed 'healthy').

When we finally got to bring them home (three weeks after they made their entrance into the world), we began to get inundated with the multitudes of questions that people seem to feel they have the right to ask.

You see, having twins is like instant celebrity.  People seem to notice twins and they just have to stop and ask as many questions, as they can.  Not as many as they feel is appropriate, because apparently nothing is off limits when you're asking a mom of twins about her twins, her pregnancy, her fertility, her feeding procedures, and her justification for said everything-related-to-babies.

God help the people who got to me before I'd had my morning coffee (just ask my sister-in-law.  She was often present when this happened)

Some of the answers I'm going to post I wish I had thought of (I'll qualify those ones).  And the ones I actually did.

1.  Q: "Are they twins?"
 My Answer: (with confusion on my face): Yes (while thinking 'Why on earth do you think there are two of them?!')
What I wish I'd answered: "No.  I found one in a parking lot and figured 'Meh, why not?'"

2: Q: "Are they natural?"
My answer: "Ummmmm? Yes?" (while thinking "WTF does that mean?!")
What I wish I'd answered:  No.  We commissioned them.  They are made totally of recycled parts.

3. Q: "Did you use fertility treatments?"
My answer: "Ummmmm?" (while thinking "And this is your business because?")
What I wish I'd answered: "Do you want the name of my doctor?  Shall I have my medical records forwarded to you?"

4. Q: "How do you tell them apart?"
My answer:  "I'm their mom.  I don't really have a problem telling them apart.  They don't even look the same."
What I wish I'd answered: Well, my answer above is pretty much it.

5. Q: "Are they boys?"
My answer (usually): No.  They're girls (usually while thinking "did the pink blanket, pink shirt and flowery pants throw you?"
What I wish I'd answered: Oh, did the pink blankets, pink shirt, flowery pants throw you?
My husband liked to answer: "Why?  Are you going to buy them a present?"

6. Q: "Are you breastfeeding or bottle feeding?"
My answer: "Bottles"
What I wish I'd answered:  "I can't really see how that's any of your business, but since you asked, based on how they eat and the fact that one likes to throw up every time I feed her, I wasn't in the mood to be a cow and be feeding 24/7 since they don't eat at the same time."

7. Q: "Which one is the evil twin?"
My answer: Blank stare
What I wished I'd answered: Blank stare pretty much covers it I think.

8.: Q: "How do you manage with two?"
My answer: It's not that I have much of a choice.
What I wish I'd answered: "I pick the one I like best that day and take care of that one." or "How do you manage to get up everyday?"

9. Q: "You must have your hands full!!" (Okay, not really a question)
My answer: Yep.,.  both of them.  And my heart, too.
What I wish I'd answered: See above.

10: Q: "Are they identical or fraternal?"
My answer: Fraternal
What I wish I'd answered: "Sororal. Get it? Cause they're girls."

It has never failed to amaze me, even now, how much people think they deserve to know about you, your children and your medical history when it comes to twins.  I swear, it makes me want to go up to them and say "is that your child?  Is it a boy or a girl? Did you have it naturally or did you need fertility? or did you adopt it?" Noone ever goes up to the parent of a singleton and ask any of the above.  And if the kid doesn't look like the parents?  Well that's a whole 'nother ball o' wax (such as Asian children adopted by North American parents - my friends adopted their daughters and I have heard that people ask white couples of Asian children how much their children "cost".  WTF!?)

One thing I will say: I would never ever change the experience of having my children the way I did.  Everything was new, and even though we spent 3 weeks in the Special Care Nursery, I still wouldn't trade our experiences there for anything.  We learned so much, met some incredibly fantastic (and one or two not so great) nurses and doctors.

Why I won't change my Facebook profile picture to Sarah Watkin

In the early hours of Sunday morning, Sarah Watkin, 7 years old, lost her battle with cancer. Her story was chronicled in the local and national papers. Her family set up a Facebook page to help push their agenda of getting people to register with OneMatch.ca. It's really easy. It's four swabs of the insides of your cheeks. They tried to find a match for their daughter, but were unsuccessful. They have, at least, saved four more lives that they know of.

I am heartbroken for their loss. No parent should outlive their child. But the Watkins gave their daughter a lifetime of living in the past few months of this summer.  Sarah got to do things most kids don't even think about. And she got to do things kids dream of. 

But I won't change my profile picture to Sarah's beautiful face. I didn't know Sarah and I don't know her family. I can empathize with them. I can't imagine the pain they are going through having lost their oldest child and first daughter. 

I feel that it's not right for me, someone who has never met the family, to put their daughter's photo as my profile picture. I mourn for them, for their loss, but since the Watkins aren't even a passing acquaintance, I can't justify putting their beautiful daughter's picture as my profile picture.  I will carry her picture in my heart, and I will smile at the pictures my friends have changed their profile pictures to, of Sarah's smiling face  wearing a grey toque with sparkles. But I won't  make the change. Sarah was far too special.  Her memory is far too special. 

NaNoWriMo and NaBloPoMo

Normally I only participate in National Novel Writing Month, but this year I'm going to try my hand at National Blog Posting Month, too. 

Thirty posts in 30 days and 50,000 words in 30 days. Should be interesting 

So... Here goes. 

Yesterday was halloween. One of Banana and Squish's favourite holidays. How can you not love a holiday where you get tons of candy. For free. 

It's interesting to see how my girls' cistes have changed over the years. Gone are the days of princesses.  

Their first year, the girls were only 3 months old.  I certainly wasn't taking them trick or treating and I wasn't buying costumes. But Old Navy was selling the cute little fleece hats. So I bought a ghost hat and a pumpkin too. I had a white sleeper and an orange onesie with green pants. It was an unseasonably warm Halloween that year, so I sat outside with the girls in their stroller and bucket seats in sweat pants and a t-shirt, them in their  "costumes" with no need for a jacket. This year Banana went as a bag of jelly beans, Squish went as Katniss from The Hunger Games. 

Goodness was it cold. And wet. The last three Halloweens were wet and rainy. This year seemed worse for some reason. My pants got soaked and they soaked my Converse shoes. I was walking in puddles. In my shoes. My friend and I, who had been going along with the girls, decided that we would let them continue on their own. At 10 and 11, the rain didn't bother them as much. 

By the time we went to bed, it was SNOWING!!  Honest to goodness SNOWING. Interestingly, it was the first snowfall. The last few years, the snow h came at least once in October. It never stays, because the ground hasn't frozen yet, but it won't be long before we are covered in a white duvet. I just hope we don't have another ice storm. 

Enjoy some pictures from last night 

How I became the "Cool Mom" and still maintained my parental authority.

When I was growing up, I was always determined that if I had kids, I would be the "cool mom". The mom that made kids want to come and hang out at our house. I wanted to be the "fun mom" who let the kids have ice cream for breakfast on birthdays and pancakes for dinner, just because. Of course some of that was in rebellion from my own parents' seemingly strict rules (a friend from elementary school recently confessed to me that my mother terrified her when we were young, because my mother didn't let us get away with anything). You don't appreciate those rules when you're living under them. But when you have young lives in your care, you realize, maybe Mom wasn't wrong about bedtime and lessons and treats and weekend play dates, sleepovers and consequences for poor behaviour.

I often hear parents these days say they want their kids to know they are their parents, not their friends.  In some cases it can be a fine line and not all parents can tow it. 

It is, however, possible to be both your child's parent and their friend. At least, that's the case with my girls. 

Now, when I say I am my childrens' friend, I'm not saying I don't pay any mind to boundaries or rules. My husband and I have rules and boundaries we adhere to and our kids know just how far they can go before mom-friend becomes mom-mom. 

How do you balance a "friendship" with parenting?  Let me put it this way. I say "friendship" for lack of a better term. I am the parent first and foremost.  There is no grey zone about this.  We have our strict "can-never-ever-be-broken" rules and we have our "just-this-once-because-it's fun-to-break" rules. 

The first time I set the "I am your parent" boundary was when my girls were about 3 or 4. One of them asked for something to which I said "no" and the plea became "I'll be your best friend". Right then and there, I knew the boundary had to be set, no question.  I replied with "I am your mother. I am not your friend.  We can always do fun stuff but Daddy and I make the rules and no is no".  There was no further arguing, no whining, no pleading and best of all, no tears. I hadn't scarred my child and made her think parenting is sucky and parents are mean. My girls are 11 now, and I have yet to have "you're so mean!!" thrown at me.  

From an early age, we taught boundaries and consequences.  For example, every other year, we purchase seasons passes to Canada's Wonderland. Depending on timing, weather, activities, etc, we sometimes would go in an evening once the Hubs and I were home from work.  Sometimes we'd grab a pizza and eat it in the parking area (our favourite grassy knoll has been taken over by fenced in area where a ride now comes out into the parking lot).  On one occasion, we went with my brother in law, his two kids, my two, the Hubs and myself. Seven people, two cars.  The girls were still quite young. Kindergarten, I believe, and so we spent most of our time in the Kiddie area. The four kids were in line for a ride and they stopped the line right at Banana. She wanted on the ride, but it was full. Cue meltdown. I tried to explain she would get on the next ride. She was having none of that.  I warned her that if she didn't stop crying, because there was nothing I could do to get her on the ride faster and that she had to wait her turn, that I would take her home. This was usually the cue to quit the tantrum. But nope. She insisted she wanted on the ride NOW and she didn't want to wait her turn.  So, I asked the Hubs for his car keys, told him he's have to get a ride with his brother and took Banana out of the park, screaming and crying the whole way (to this day I am shocked no one stopped me thinking I was kidnapping this screaming child. After all, she was saying "no! I don't want to go!")

By the time we got to the car, Banana was now pleading "I'll stop crying Mommy!  If we go back I'll stop crying."  She'd had her warnings. She'd had her chance. She'd been told the consequence. Now it was time to follow through. Most of the drive out of the parking lot was "I stopped crying. I'll wait my turn. Can we go back?  Please, Mommy. I'll wait."  When she realized we were going home regardless, she stopped her pleading. About halfway home, with me still seething from carrying a wriggling, screaming child through an amusement park, Banana pipes up in her adorable small voice "Mommy? Can I tell you something?"  I responded with "if it's about going back, I don't want to hear it."  She said "no. I just want to tell you I love you and I'm sorry I didn't listen."  I still remember this exchange to this day. As does she. And you know what?  We've never had to leave Wonderland because someone wasn't listening.  We've left because we were cold. We've left because it rained. We left because we had dinner plans. But not once since then have we left because someone misbehaved. 

What does that have to do with being the "cool mom"?  Nothing, I guess, but it's an example of how setting boundaries doesn't mean you're the "mean mom". We've often discussed with our girls that the rules we put in place aren't to be mean, but to protect them. And they get it. And they abide (mostly) by them. 

But that still leaves room for ice cream sandwiches and milkshakes for breakfast because Mommy's away, or a sushi dinner and a late showing of Hotel Transylvania because Daddy's away.  We go to the drive in, and sometimes stay for the third feature on the long weekend, which usually get us home after 2am. Because parenting isn't always about rules and how strict they can be. It's about showing kids it's okay to bend some of the rules. But not all of them and not all the time.  

One of the ways I've achieved the coveted "cool mom" status is by showing an interest in what my kids like. Banana loves playing Minecraft. So I loaded it on my iPad and she has it on hers and occasionally, we play together.  Recently, the two of us were out for dinner while Squish and the Hubs were at the Snow Show volunteering with the Canadian Ski  Patrol.  Banana went on and on and on and on about Minecraft and video games and different things that I've lost all track of. But she was engaged and proud of achievements she knew her father would not only not understand (I admit, she lost me somewhere along the way, too) but would make a disparaging comment because he views video games as a waste of time. What he doesn't realize is it teaches our daughter how to plan and explore.  It makes her focus (she's recently diagnosed ADHD inattentive type) and it helps keep her relaxed.  She told me her friends thought it was cool that I played Minecraft, too.  But by exploring worlds with Banana in Minecraft, she opens up and we talk. Even if it's just about how best to blow up a floating house made of sponge, or guessing how many blocks of TNT it will take, what the Hubs doesn't realize is she's learning estimates and predictions, and she doesn't even realize it. 

With Squish, we share a mutual love of "The Walking Dead".  Sunday night at 9:00 is reserved for us to sit together under her Walking Dead blanket, with a bowl of popcorn and our Walking Dead cups, even though school night bedtime is 9:00. This is one of our bendable rules. Banana plays chess or backgammon with her dad while Squish and I watch people get killed by zombies, or kill zombies.  Squish's friends think it's cool that I let her watch The Walking Dead and that we watch it together. 

By taking these interests in my kids' lives, and sharing mutual interests with them, I became the "cool mom" and their friends feel comfortable coming over. Even their friends know our house has rules and they have to follow them. But if they want to play Minecraft, I'm happy to join in.  Maybe I'll learn a little more about my kids' lives outside my front door.  

Summer 2014, in pictures.

The girls joined the York Region Children's Chorus in January.  This is their final concert in May

Squish placed FIRST in long-jump at her school track meet, qualifying for the Area meet. 

Big smiles, though she didn't place at Areas... No Regionals for us. 

Banana got partial upper braces AND a lower spacer. So much for her being the less expensive kid!

Happy 11th birthday, Banana and Squish!  It's a zombie minion, in case you couldn't tell...

Family birthday Dinner. Homemade Frozen themed cake. Inside, the cake is blue. 

Banana and my bubbie 

The Hubs' best friend and his wife came to stay (they live in Calgary) for about a week when his grandmother died. La and I went shopping

Went to the James Taylor concert with my pal. We entered to win upgraded seats...

We started here...

And ended up here...  FIFTH ROW!!!!!

Got invited to the Queen concert...

It was a fun night...

Then it was time for Banana and Squish to head off to sleep away camp! (August already!?)

The Hubs and I went to the drive-in...

The Rogers Cup...

I went to Niagara Falls with some girlfriends for a weekend (THAT'S a whole other story!)

But I missed Visitor's Day at camp...

We grew our own vegetables this year. That is a standard kitchen sink.  We had beets the size of baby heads!

We went on a solidarity with Israel march...

And made our first trip as a family to the Canadian National Exhibition (CNE, or Ex)

 

Sunday fun day on a Monday

I love long weekends.  Even the one before Banana and Squish start back at school.  

Long weekends equal sleeping in late, staying up late, movies, popcorn, campfires and s'mores. If we're lucky, the Drive-In in Sharon is playing good movies for the four of us and long weekends there mean TRIPLE features! (Nothing either good or appropriate for two 11 year olds was playing this weekend)

Saturday, the Hubs worked, and Banana was at a friend's, having slept over.  squish and I spent the day in our PJs, relaxing and getting nothing done (I got some housework done, but not much). We had our neighbours over with their 3 kids for dinner.  The kids ate and then we sent them off to play while the adults ate and chatted.

Sunday we slept in, then spent the day catching up on some very overdue chores. The Hubs wanted to barbecue, even though I was thawing veal scalloppini, so I made a run to the grocery store while he mowed the lawn.  After dinner was a movie with ice cream. 

Today we actually did sleep in again, had a quick breakfast and headed out to Burd's Family Fishing to go... Well, obviously... Fishing!  The Hubs bought Banana and Squish their own rods this summer and we rented rods at Burd's.  There are two ponds at Burd's. One is a bit less stocked and therefore patience is a must. It's for people who want to relax while fishing. The second pond is for people who want quick catches. We opted for the first pond. Within minutes of getting her line in the water, Squish hooked a fish!  (Burd's stocks rainbow trout). 

While the Hubs was helping her unhook her fish and get it into our basket, his bobber sank.  He'd caught something too!!

Because I'm a good wife, and I also enjoy fishing, (even though I find baiting the hook with worms gross, and I can't fathom getting the hook out of the fish) I dropped my line, which needed bait, grabbed his rod and reeled in his(my) first catch of the day.   And this was supposed to be the harder pond!

A little while later, and I caught a fish on my line!  We were up to three fish. 

Poor Banana had yet to catch anything other than reeds and pond grass.  Though she got a couple of nibbles and her bait did disappear a couple of times. We thought, since the other pond was supposed to be easier we'd relocate there and hope Banana could snag something there. 

It was then that the winds picked up and the rain started coming in. We were not deterred. It wasn't cold and it was only drizzling.  But the wind made casting challenging as we were casting into the wind. 

That being said, I managed to catch another fish. But it got away as soon as I got it close to shore.  A little later on, I caught yet another fish and Banana helped reel it in. 

Banana did manage to catch a fish using her Dad's line, and all in all, we went home with 5 fish totalling close to 6 pounds. Burd's gutted and de-headed them for us.

Guess what we had for dinner...?

Yesterday, I lost my children

I didn't know my sons, and they didn't live with me, but they were taken from me, regardless.  

You see, my sons were kidnapped on their way home from school and murdered by their kidnappers. My sons are your sons.  Eyal Yifrach, Gil-ad Shaar, Naftali Fraenkel.  For eighteen days we prayed for their safe return. For eighteen days we did mitzvot in their honour.  And on the eighteenth day, a full chai, we learned that our boys were gone. Murdered by the same animals who took them.

My sons are your sons, our sons were raised by different mothers, but they are our sons, their mothers are our sisters, their fathers are our brothers.  While they mourn the loss of their biological children, we mourn the loss of "our boys".

We are Klal Yisrael.  We are a worldwide community.  Our loss is great and it is felt across this great planet.  Every Jewish community in the world is mourning the loss of our boys.

From the day we heard the boys were missing, we prayed for their safe return.  We sent messages across the globe.  We attended prayer vigils in our communities, in our shuls, on the internet.  We performed mitzvot, we spoke in hushed tones and we vilified the kidnappers.  We praised the leaders who spoke out against the kidnappers. We wondered how other leaders could say nothing or, could vilify ISRAEL for this crime. We discussed retaliation, we expressed disgust at the obvious celebration of the "Palestinian" people and their photos holding up three fingers and claiming "three Gilad Shalits". I have started a movement to take that three finger salute back and use it in memoriam of our boys.

The pain of losing these boys so senselessly has rocked every Jewish community the whole world over.  Women were speaking in salons and supermarkets, asking if the news was true and sobbing in each other's arms. 

As Klal Yisrael, we mourn our sons.

Baruch Dayan haEmet.