My girls are identical twins, but unless a stranger reminds me of that or I am thinking up ways to monetize their very adorable existence, I usually forget they are identical let alone twins. I have never referred to them as "the twins." They are always "the girls" or their names. Not that I think there is something wrong with calling twins "the twins," I just never have. I've always just thought of them as sisters around the same age, and am literally dumbfounded -- as I was today and it happens at least once a week --when a person says, "Identical twins! Wow!" I always then take a good look at my daughters -- and they appear, seem and feel just so different to me that I am taken aback when a stranger sees them as identical.
I recently read a memoir called "One and the Same" about identical twins and part of it really jolted me. Identical twins apparently can feel "interchangeable" like it doesn't matter to family or friends who is who. To me, my girls are so unique, so individual, so equally special but in different ways that it would break my heart if they someday felt they were interchangeable to me or anyone else.
Today we went to a playroom and Twin B went running for the fireman outfit. She is tough and tomboy-ish and I think she'll be like Sporty Spice except without the bad grill and tattoos.
Twin A is all girl, she delicately tiptoes right for the tutus and the crowns and will be like Posh Spice, minus the anorexia, aggressive plastic surgery and overall alien demeanor.
Okay, they will be nothing like the Spice Girls (God willing) but you get my point. (And yes, I know Victoria Beckham no longer looks like that but I like to pretend she does. Deal with it.)
Anyway, today at this playroom was a dad, he's there a lot on the weekends solo with his daughter who is probably about 4. He always looks unclean, unkempt and unenthused, not necessarily in that order. I always picture that his wife scolds him that he works all week and the least he can do is take his daughter to a fun activity on the weekend so she can have a break or cook dinner in peace or screw the neighbor. Who knows. She apparently doesn't give him a chance to bathe before she kicks them both out the door. You've never seen a more miserable man on dad duty in your life and it makes me feel sick for the little girl. He alternately reads a magazine, texts on his cell phone and checks out the moms, again, not necessarily in that order. I want to helpfully suggest if he's there to get laid he might want to shower beforehand. Sheesh. Not that I do -- always shower that is -- but I'm not there trolling for sex plus I play with my kids. So there.
Okay, so this post was kind of rambling and not particularly amusing but I did make fun of Victoria Beckham and that always kind of makes me happy.
Oh, and Happy St. Patrick's Day. A couple was drunkenly fornicating in the alley behind my house last night. So if you are a mom who wonders why you moved to the suburbs -- that's why.