Not permanently, of course, and I’ll probably have to come along. The umbilical cord is still attached to them and it is very short.

So very short.

So they always say with twins: “Twice the hugs, kisses, and love”. This is undoubtedly true, and there really is nothing cuter than having two little boys sit on your lap while you’re watching the Godzilla Animated Series from the early 80’s.

*It’s on Netflix, and it’s hysterical. One minute Godzuki is two times the size of a person, then the next scene he’s 18,000 times the size. Sometimes the only thing that’s happening in a scene is Godzilla growling with his eyes drawn funny and waving his arms around like E.T. running from Eliot’s room.*

But with two 3 year olds comes great responsibility. The caring, feeding, wiping, watering, and entertaining of two children BOTH having the terrible two’s, three’s, four’s, and possibly a teen rebellion at the same time.

Both are going through the exact same developmental stages, both are in the grunting caveman “me me me” phase, and both always want what the other has, even if they are holding the SAME DAMN THING IN THEIR HANDS.

For example, they both have an Elmo blankie. They are identical. You cannot tell them apart, yet one twin will grab one and say: “I got yo blankie, A!” Twin A comes screeching around the corner demanding sobbily that he wants HIS blankie back, even though he’s HOLDING ONE ALREADY! What I do is rip both of the blankies out of their hands and throw them up in the air a few times like a magician and then toss one to each so they don’t know which was which.

I will tell them it’s time for a diaper change (yes, I know they are 3.5 years old and not potty trained yet, I’m working on it) and one will run over to the window seat where I change them (awesome view of the street there) and yell: “B, I’m on yo bench!” Twin B will decide HE needs his diaper changed RIGHT NOW, even though I’ve already asked them to come a bazillion times.

Speaking of diapers, they usually only want me to change them. Not sure if I put the powder on with extra finesse or what, but whenever Daddy is home, he has to almost beg to let him change their diaper. Mind you, he doesn’t beg too hard, but he makes an attempt. Sometimes he will just raise his arms in defeat and sigh: “Well, CarrieLou, I tried real hard, but you just change the diapers sooooo much better”…whatever, Mr. Who, I’ve got your number.

It’s really awesome when they have what I KNOW is going to be the grossest thing I’ve seen to date and they say: “NOOOOO MOMMY DO IT!” Thanks guys, like I haven’t already changed your nasty butts 11 hundred times today.

The kicker is that they are usually calm, sweet, and patient with other people who watch them. Not sure if Mr. Who is totally telling the truth, but when I leave, they are supposedly fine for him. Grandparents say they are really good, too. But as soon as I walk in the door, it’s like everything they’ve been storing up comes pouring out of every orifice, and their behavior completely changes.

I must have some super secret powers that causes complete meltdowns. I’ll be sure not to go near any nuclear power plants.

I love the little peanuts, though, and like any relationship, when things are good, they are really, really good.

But when things are bad? I’m gonna say it…thank God for Godzilla.

(and Chocovino).

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