A Tale of Two Twins

Thirteen years ago on April 19th at 4:25 and 4:26 my life changed forever.  Into my world entered twelve pounds of babies - two to be exact.  Kidlet A and Kidlet B  arrived on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, of which I had been denied a latte just hours before by my doctor, as I was going in for an emergency C-section.

That's how I knew they were going to be born.  After months of being disgusted by coffee, I had this intense craving for the bean on the morning of April 19th.  And at Sally Ann's Bakery in Concord, I ordered up that latte and was ready for my weekly visit to the hospital.  As Dads drove to the hospital with me for my weekly twin checkup, I got ready for yet another day of lying in bed and being checked.

Little did I know April 19th would be the day that Kidlet A and Kidlet B would arrive.  At that point I didn't know if they were boys, girls, or one of each.  We didn't even have two girls names picked out.  Should they have been girls, one would have definitely been Dagney, after the character in Ayn Rand's book.  Gosh, how I loved the name Dagney!  But I also adored the names I had chosen for Kidlet A and Kidlet B.

And so thirteen years have passed.  With twins, life is different.  Yes, parenting is a pleasure and a pain, we'll all admit that.  But I'm going to be full of myself and say being a mom to a dynamic duo brings situations like no other.  The kidlets are fraternal twins which look nothing alike.  Over the years we've had bizarre encounters.  I've been asked such things as, "Are you sure they're twins?"  There was also the time in the supermarket checkout line when a foreign person's son began to lick one of the kidlet's cheeks upon hearing they were twins.  Why?  I don't know.  All I do know is the minute I got to the almighty Volvo I smeared Kidlet (I won't reveal to them which one was affected) with cleansing wipes.  Weirdness.

We celebrated their birthday with a family party on Sunday, the day before the horrific attack in Boston.  When I received the call from Mama about the Boston bombing the kidlets and I were in Old Navy.  My first reaction was to go on with normalcy - keep shopping then onto Barnes and Noble and not tell them their beautiful city had been marred.  But I didn't chose that option.  I told them there had been a terrorist attack, that we needed to stay informed, and life needed to go on.

My sons were to visit Washington, D.C. later in the week, and I'll admit I was nervous.  But what do I want for my kidlets?  I want the world to be a place that they can explore, learn, and meet people who expand their minds.  I want them to see the things that I have seen - the Andes mountains at sunset, the stars from the Amazon jungle, Lapland in the summertime.  And yes, I want them to go back to downtown Boston with me on a summer day and stroll those very same streets we have walked prior to April 15th, relaxing afterwards on Boston Common with a ride in the Swan Boats.  Life is meant to be lived.

I remember reading Richard Rohr a few years ago about how we live in a culture of hate.  We can no longer do this.  We need to live in a culture of love and acceptance, and this must be built for our children.  In order to do that, we cannot live behind closed walls, behind computers, and texting on iPhones.  To see humanity, interact with one another, and gather the human experience is essential.

Define yourself by what you love, not what you hate.  A promise to my twins.