House of Twins

Not mine - for a change! We took the girls out for a late tea (I've been feeling unwell for the last couple of days so thought I'd make it up to everyone by buying them dinner) and between ordering the food and waiting for it to arrive, I noticed that the girls on the tables behind us were looking at the girls.

So far, so normal. We're fairly used to the attention that R and G seem to attract now. I thought it would die down as they got older but as they have become more similar - to the point of becoming virtually indistinguishable from each other - their role of minor (E-list) local celebrities has continued.

Normally, the attention they attract is fairly nice. People ask us how we tell them apart. Answer: we just know. We get the usual 'Ooh double trouble' comments and can bat them away with a smile and a friendly comment.

However, the girls on the table behind us (probably aged about 10 or 11) weren't exactly being very kind. R and G had already turned and beamed at them as they scanned the restaurant and were now distracted with crayons and paper. In any case, I'm fairly confident that 20 month olds aren't terribly aware of the mean comments of others because they think everyone is lovely.

Unfortunately, being a grown-up, I am painfully aware that people, particulary prepubescent girls, can be extremely cruel. I don't like my little girls being described as 'weird' and 'freaks'. At one point they were actually pointing and laughing at R and G. Worst of all, they had an adult with them - presumably a mother of one of the girls - and she didn't stop them and try to explain about identical twins.

Luckily, they left just after our food arrived and I was able to explain why I looked so annoyed to dh. He wasn't too worried: "I wouldn't mess with either of them (R and G) - R will bite their ankles, G will whinge at them until they give up and they act as a tag team".

He has a point. Being identical, R and G are always going to attract attention. Hopefully, as they have each other, they will be able to combat the negative comments and actions together.

Normally my date nights with dh consist of putting the girls to bed, lighting some candles, cooking a meal and chatting over a glass of wine. Last night, for the first time in 2.5 years, dh and I were able to go out for dinner.

Dh's parents stayed at the weekend and offered (OFFERED!) to babysit so that we could go out. I nearly collapsed with excitement at the thought. Dh and went to our local Cafe Rouge. The waiter was very French and VERY grumpy (so didn't get a tip) but the food was lovely and the company was excellent.

The girls, exhausted after a busy day at nursery, conked out at bedtime and were beautifully well-behaved. All of my fears about them 'sensing' that we were out and playing up for Nanny and Grandad were unfounded. They didn't even stir and we managed to have a romantic evening.

Best of all, they have (bravely) offered to babysit again next time they visit. I don't want to wait another two years for a night out with dh!

On Saturday at approximately 10.55am, standing under the departures board at Euston station with a small suitcase, waiting to meet someone I had never met before but who knows more about me than even my closest real-life friends, I had a ‘What the heck am I doing here?’ moment.
How did I get there? (tube – Northern Line - since you asked) One word: Babycentre.
I was off to Birmingham for a meet-up with eleven other twin mums. We all (with one exception, that being our Guru, who had her twins in 2005) had our twins in 2007 or early 2008. We’ve seen each other through pregnancies, the early difficult days with newborns, the thrill of reaching the one year mark and the rapid comedown that the thirteenth month of our children’s lives brought (many of us hit a wall at that point) and the brave new world of fully-fledged toddlerdom.
We all met on the Babycentre twins forums. There are actually about twenty of us in total, but not everyone was able to come to Birmingham last weekend. We’ve stuck together through arguments, fall-outs, flounces and the proliferation of twin forums on the site that could have sent us scurrying off in different directions to other parts of the web for advice and support. Heck, sometimes we don’t even agree with each other but generally we’re pretty grown-up and sort things out.
At 11am my travelling companion and roomie for the weekend (we had all booked ‘twin’ rooms in the hotel so that we could share) arrived and my momentary wobbler came to an abrupt end. M was exactly as I expected (in a very good way) and from Euston to Birmingham, a 1.5 hour journey, we barely paused to draw breath as we chatted away, our magazines and books untouched on the table in front of us. It was a good start to the weekend.
Once we arrived in Birmingham, we met up with a couple of the other early arrivals for lunch. M and I decided to go for a girlie make-up session and ended up in Selfridges getting our faces ‘done’ for our big night out. It was great fun and an excellent way to bond. Throughout the afternoon we collected more of our gang and went to our hotel where we met up with the others, had early drinks and got ready for our big night. M and I bopped around our room as we got changed to a selection of cheesy tunes. Suddenly I was a student again.
One of our number (our Squadron Leader) had organised food in a nearby restaurant and had also made a rather amazing massive chocolate cake, decorated with chocolate balls. I revealed how much of a child I actually am by bursting into giggles every time someone said the word ‘balls’. I’m such a grown-up. One of the other girls (who I shall refer to as Valley Girl, as she was one of the Welsh contingent, very lovely and very glamorous) had made us all survival kits for the morning after, containing tissues, paracetamol, chewing gum and plasters, among other things – a brilliant idea and one that only a twin mum could possibly have thought of.
As for the rest of the night, all I can say is ‘What goes on tour stays on tour’ but there were jugs of cocktails and dancing and two members of the group – revealing no names but I’ll call them Dancing Queen and Jade Green – formed a splinter group, went to a very cheesy nightclub and rolled into bed well after 2am...
In all, it was a brilliant weekend. Everyone was exactly as I expected them to be although it was weird hearing everyone speak for the first time. Accents don’t come across too well on message forums and MSN so I can now imagine them speaking when I read their posts!
We’re already talking about what we’re going to do next year. Jade Gr..ahem..M and I have already agreed to be roomies again and do the make-over thing beforehand and once we sort out a date and venue, I’ll be counting down the days.
So – M, S (Guru), R (Valley Girl), G, T, A, C, N, J, D (a.k.a. Catherine Tate) and D (Squadron Leader) – see you in 2010!

Even though it’s 11 years since I got my results, I still experience a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach on A-Level results day. How does this relate to R and G? Let me explain...

I vividly recall going to school, picking up my envelope and ripping it open. Instead of celebrating my (very) good results, I burst into tears. I needed two A’s and a B to get into my first choice university. Instead, I had the two A grades (great) and a horrible little C grade. The fact that a C grade in Law was pretty good considering the course was 100% exam, no coursework completely passed me by. I had been predicted an A. In short, in my eyes, I had failed.

I cried for a little while and the rest of the day passed in the clichéd blur. Along with some of my classmates I had my picture taken for the local paper, holding up my results and smiling - I had achieved the second best grades in the school, and was the best performing girl. Teachers hugged me. My family told me they were proud of me. Gradually, I realised that maybe my second choice university wouldn’t be so bad after all.

It isn’t an overstatement to say that everything that has happened in the intervening 11 years has been as a result of that day. I went to my second choice university (one of the best things that ever happened to me) where, after kissing my share of frogs, I met dh. We both got our degrees and achieved postgraduate qualifications. We moved to London and got married. I became a librarian and dh became a train driver. We became parents to R and G.

The simple fact is, without that C grade, my life would be unimaginably different now. Dh and I would not have met. There would be no R and G. I’m not a religious person but I do believe that things happen for a reason. I believe that I was meant to go to university and meet dh.

I have absolutely no time at all for people who say they went to ‘The University of life’ – it seems to me that they are bitter that they didn’t go themselves. Going to university was the making of me and changed my life in a million brilliant ways and although I have (brief) moments where I mentally kick myself for that C grade, I’m also thankful for it because it gave me the life I have now. I can’t imagine that the alternative could possibly live up to it.

After a very well-received trip to London Zoo earlier in the Summer, we took the girls to Whipsnade Zoo on Sunday. We were supposed to visit friends and go to a barbeque on Saturday but dh had to work (grr) so we made up for it the following day.

R and G liked most of the animals but their favourite part of the day was the sealion show. They were absolutely transfixed throughout the entire show, eyes wide and unblinking, smiling broadly, clapping and cheering as Salt the sealion performed his tricks.

The girls seem to get so much from such trips now. They were copying the names and sounds of the animals, shouting HELLO and BYE BYE to the different enclosures and waving and smiling at everyone they met. It's so nice to be able to take the girls out on regular trips and spend time doing fun things with them. I can't imagine what it must be like to be confined to the house, day after day. I'm so glad we're not like that.

R and G are. Their first trip to the dentist was going well up to the point where they went into the room. Even the twinkly Irish dentist couldn't charm them into co-operating. They both clutched my hands for dear life, wailing MUMMY MUMMY and refusing to open their mouths so that the dentist could check their teeth.

Between wails, he managed to have a half-decent look at their chompers and said they were just fine. He wasn't too concerned about G's extra bit of tooth behind one of her bottom front teeth and said he'd have a proper look in six months' time - if the girls decided to let him!

Twinkly Irish dentist is an identical twin himself and was fascinated by the girls. Apparently his twin brother is a doctor. A dentist and a doctor - their mammy must be very proud! He attempted to check my teeth but was slightly put-off by the two pairs of identical green eyes staring up at him as he did his examination.

So, R and G's first trip to the dentist wasn't exactly a roaring success but you can't exactly expect two wilful 20 month olds to willingly agree to having their teeth poked and prodded, can you?

This is R's current favourite phrase. She uses it when she is *actually* stuck in or on something and also if she simply doesn't want to do a particular thing or activity, e.g. being strapped into her buggy, reins, car seat or highchair. She also bellows the phrase when she doesn't want her nappy changed.

R has always wanted to be older than she is. She hated being a baby and appears to be finding toddlerdom even more frustrating. In her mind, she is at least 4 or 5 years old, possibly older. She looks at the pre-school children at nursery with longing and envy. She is just going to have to live through this part of her life and will hopefully feel less 'stuck' as she grows up.

The girls now have twelve teeth each (only 16 to go, collectively...) and G appears to have a random piece of tooth poking though behind one of her front teeth at the bottom that looks like it shouldn't be there so we took them to be registered with the local dental practice today.

I felt that dh and I should set a good example so we registered as well. Confession time: dh last went to the dentist three years ago and I last went in 2002. The shame!

As we sat in the waiting toom filling out the forms (for R's occupation I desperately wanted to write cage fighter), one of the dentists came in and spotted the girls. He twinkled rather charmingly at them and the girls giggled back. "I'm an identical twin myself". He smiled. "We come out differently and we don't change. These two are destined for the stage". If G hadn't been strapped into the pushchair I think she would have leapt out and kissed him.

The girls and I have a family appointment next Wednesday. Wish me luck...

I've been on a bit of a mission for the last week or so to sort through and purge the stuff that we don't need or want to move to our new house. I've found the whole process quite therapeutic.

Five bin bags of clothes (the more tatty stuff) went to the charity clothing bank and I've found a good home for the nice clothes that the girls have grown out of. There is a small (but growing pile) of things that need to be listed on Ebay. I managed to fill all three rubbish bins (we have one for recyclables, one for food and garden waste and one for things you can't do anything with) to the brim last week. I have a couple of boxes of books and videos to take to the charity shop and we are finally going to dispose of our video recorder.

Dh and I had planned to do a trip to Ikea this week as there are a few things I'd like to get for the girls but I've decided to wait until we've moved.

We're in a slightly odd situation at the moment. We can't move into our new house for another month (we should get the keys c.16th September)so we can't start doing the practical stuff, like packing or changing our address on things.

People have started coming to view our current house. It's on the market at £335,000 which seems very expensive for a two-bed terraced house but it is in a desirable area and similar houses have achieved this kind of selling price recently.

The estate agent charged with selling the house is hilarious. He looks about twelve but has all the chatter off-pat and has the wide-awake suit and spiky hair you'd expect. I'd pat him on the head but he'd probably start crying! R and G think he's very strage because he brings people to the house that AREN'T THERE TO VISIT THEM. How rude! I reckon it'll sell, but not at the list price.

Roll on 16th September.

In conjunction with nursery, we've devised a strategy to deal with R's biting, which involves keeping a record of who she bites, when and why. The 'who' appears to be quite random (although G gets more than her fair share) but the pattern of the why is more obvious. R gets extremely frustrated when she can't have a toy that she wants, gets frustrated when people don't understand her babble and as a last resort, bites them. Her carers are 'shadowing' her, as much as they can, removing her from a situation before she bites someone and distracting her with another toy or activity.

I had a chat with the toddler room leader last week and she said that all children go through a 'phase' of expressing themselves through violent means and they either go through it before the age of 2 or when they are 7 (I used to kick boys in the shins at that age and find it hilarious) and that any parent who claims their child doesn't do this is lying! She also said that quite a few other children were doing it as well and that I shouldn't fret too much I found this very reassuring, curiously. R will grow out of the biting, we just need to help her.

The Jekyll twins have disappeared and the Hydes are back, for today at least. R and G have been really good today.

This morning we had a playdate with S (who shall henceforth be known as my Twin Mummy Voice of Reason, or VOR) and her adorable boy/girl twins H and A. The girls were incredibly well-behaved, making a liar of me again! VOR said I had nothing to worry about and I think she's right. They played nicely, they smiled lots, they hugged and kissed their friends and it was a lovely morning.

This afternoon the girls and I did an hour of energetic disco dancing (don't ask) before tea and afterwards I took them to the park and they were in their element, herding geese, waving hello to everyone, chasing pigeons and generally being very cute and cheeky, but in a nice way.

They are back at nursery tomorrow, so we'll have to see what havoc they manage to wreak. However, today has proved to me that my children aren't going to turn into the Krays...yet!

...mine, unfortunately.

When I picked the girls up from nursery today one of their carers asked if she could have a word with me. This is usually a bad sign and either means they are ill or they have been naughty. Today it was the latter.

Apparently, R goes and randomly attacks other children (biting, hair-pulling, pushing, etc) and G goes and joins in, tag-team style. It's been going on for a little while and their carers hoped they would stop doing it, but they haven't.

I asked how they were dealing with the girls' aggression and they said they were using 'time out', the same as us. The girls seem to know that they have been naughty but adopt a 'Whatever' attitude and try to charm their way out of it. We use the 'time-out step' at home and they have a time out corner at nursery so we are being consistent with their punishments. Hopefully this will start having an effect on their behaviour soon.

It's utterly mortifying to be told that your children are misbehaving. You start questioning everything you do as a parent. Do we spoil them? Do we give them everything they need? Do they have enough attention? Do they have too much attention? Is our approach to disciplining them the right one? Are we struggling here? Do we need to seek outside help?

I know that dh will read this, roll his eyes and tell me off for beating myself up again but I can't help feeling that in some way I might be causing their behaviour. G went through a bad biting phase when I was changing jobs. Have they picked up our anxieties about moving house, causing them to misbehave?

I'd like to seek advice from my friends with children, particularly my twin mummy friends but I feel embarrassed even writing a post about the little sh1ts I appear to have spawned. It's really hard to admit that you're struggling with discipline and even worse, that I'm exposing myself here, telling everyone how awful my children are. I'd hate anyone reading this to think 'Ha! That serves her right for being smug and thinking she's marvellous'.

Dh has six days off work from Friday onwards and I'm on leave as well so we'll be spending a lot of time with the girls over the next week or so. Hopefully we'll be able to stamp this bad behaviour out sooner rather than later.

The girls are getting a bit (a tiny bit) better with the whole name thing.

R bellows GRAAAAAACE GRAAAACE when she wants to get G's attention or know where her sister is, in the manner of an angry Eastenders character. However, R seems less sure of her own name. She says OOF randomly but she could be referring to a dog rather than herself!

G also bellows GRAAAACE at her sister and OOF OOF when she's in the mood but she doesn't seem to necessarily associate the names with herself or her sister.

I keep thinking about the Multiple Births Foundation ante-natal class I attended, where they said that to teach the twins their names, we should start sentences with their names e.g. Grace would you like some water? Ruth can you give me that toy please? and make sure you're looking directly at the 'right' one when asking the question. I don't know if it works though - I'll keep you posted.

This morning, dh and I went to release the girls from their cages (cots) and were greeted with a familar smell. Oh, what a lovely present early in the morning. Dh switched on the light and uttered the following words:

'WHAT is that?'

For a moment, in my just woken up fog of confusion, I wondered what he was taking about. He pointed at the floor next to R's cot and suddenly, all became clear. The carpet was littered with little pellets of, well, I'll let you use your imagination for the next bit...

Rather brilliantly (in a bizarre, disgusting sort of way), R had managed to reach through her night clothes, extract the contents of her nappy and fling them out of her cot because leaving them in the cot would be gross, wouldn't it?

I have sellotaped the nappies on tonight. Hah!

Just a week after finding out that we couldn't extend the rental on our current house, we have found a new one. It was really easy. Almost too easy. I'm trying not to look for the catch...

Our new house is just a couple of minutes away from our current house but is much bigger. It's a Victorian semi-detached property. It has three big bedrooms, one of which will become a spare room and my much longed-for study. The bathroom is upstairs, which will be weird after having a downstairs bathroom for the last two years. Downstairs, the lounge and dining room have been knocked through to create one large living room. The kitchen is out the back in a large extension and there is also a dining room. Plus, we have a downstairs 'cloakroom', or toilet to the less posh among us!

We've already planned how we want to arrange the house and reckon we've found ways to create plenty of roaming space for R and little hidey holes for G, so they will both be happy.

The only down side is that the garden is paved rather than the grass I would have preferred. On the plus side, it is pretty large and I reckon laying down a load of tumble mats on dry days will solve the problem.

So, I'll be spending the rest of my two weeks' off work purging our stuff and tidying our current house ready to move out mid-September. Although the new house is significantly larger, I don't want to move anything we don't need.

How often do you go out of the house with your children? A couple of times a week? Less? Every day?

As someone who gets cabin fever if she has to be confined to the house for more than 24 hours, I insist on taking the girls out every day, even if it is just for a walk to the shops or park. Pouring with rain outside? Whack the rain cover on the buggy, put on my waterproofs and stride around the block. Anything to get out of the house.

We also do lots of more exciting trips. I try to organise it so that we either visit people, or have visitors every weekend. We're taken the girls (when they were much younger) to sporting events. We take them shopping (they love Sainsbury's and Bluewater). We take them out for tea. We've taken them to museums, zoos and landmarks.

So far, so normal. However, being the incredibly organised (anal) person that I am, I insist on writing every single trip or event on a calendar. I got quite concerned last winter that I wasn't doing enough 'exciting' stuff with the girls and that they were probably bored stiff on their non-nursery days (unlikely but I do like having something to worry about) so I started making a conscious effort to do something every day. I'm convinced that the girls sleep better if they've been out of the house.

Nursery days are marked with an 'N' and every other day of the week has to have a 'something' in the box or I start thinking I'm a terrible parent. I hate leaving blanks on the calendar. I know I sound mental (I know, I know) but I think it keeps me sane as much as it benefits the girls.

R and G love dogs. The mere glimpse of a canine sends them into a squealing, quivering frenzy of excitement. However, until today they have operated a 'I like you but not that much so I'm going to squeal and point at you from a safe distance and if you approach me I'll hide behind my buggy' stance.

Today they actually TOUCHED A DOG. Oh, the excitement. They spotted a friendly looking black labrador in the park and insisted on trotting over for a closer look. The owner very kindly stopped (he and his four legged friend were out for what looked like a fairly intensive workout) and encouraged the girls to come and pat the dog. He was a docile creature (the dog, not the man although he was also very friendly) and happily submitted to some attention from me.

R and G looked a little less confident. They smiled uncertainly at the labrador and watchfully edged closer. G desperately wanted to stroke the dog but R's more overt uncertainty seemed to hold her back. After about thirty seconds, G stepped forward and gently stroked the dog's back. R followed suit with a self-conscious giggle and a more tentative pat.

I fear there will be no stopping them now. Every dog we meet will probably be given an affectionate pat (or more likely a hearty slap), even the scary looking ones.

As a dog person, I'm more than happy with this development. Cats freak me out because they seem to know things that I don't. They have ways and plans and this unsettles me. You know where you are with a dog. They are (generally) friendly and straightforward in a 'what you see is what you get' sort of way. Hopefully, this means that the girls will forget their 'dat' obsession and concentrate on the woof woofs (their words, not mine) in the park.