Our Teeny Tiny Twins are Three Years Old

THREE.  Three. 3.  It seems incredible that you have been growing and thriving and on the earth with us for 3 years.  Three whole years.  Our teeny tiny twins are three years old.

And the timing is just perfect. It hasn’t gone too fast and it hasn’t gone too slow.  It has gone exactly as it should go.

Five fingers on each of four hands. One boy and one girl. They are three years old on January 7th.

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My boy.

“I don’t want to get big. I want to stay wittle.”

*cue my sobs but trying not to*

“Don’t worry, buddy.  You are going to be little for a long time.  We will make sure of it.”

“Good.  Because I don’t want to get big right now.  Not right now.”

My curious, questioning, demanding, frustrated and joyful, compassionate and kind boy.  My dancing, (“can I practice my Dance moves first?” before each dance party) running, kicking, feet are tired boy.  You run fast and hard until that moment you crash.  In all things, you are passionate.  Either joyfully or angrily (after a tantrum, I WANT TO WIPE DA CRY WATER OFF).  You care about things so much.  You really really care and treasure and take care of your things.  You don’t lose them.  And if you ever do you are so sad.  I love that about you.  You take good care.  You are a rule follower. Things go a certain way and you want to make sure we follow the rules.  But we also know sometimes it’s ok to do things differently.  We talk about that.  You are so nice to your sister and you laugh at her jokes.  You say, YOU ARE ALWAYS SO FUNNY BEBE.  She loves to make you laugh and you love to laugh at her.  You adore your daddy.  You want to be just like him and I can see why.  He’s awesome.  You are both really into everything Star Wars right now, and superheros.  You want to wear clothes like he does and do the things he does.  He’s a fantastic role model for you and I couldn’t be happier that you want to be like him.  You are in so many ways you don’t even understand yet.

My girl.

“Wiggle to get da bumps off a you head, GAH!  Wike dis.”  then you proceed to tell him how to wiggle to make the hurt go away.  Valuable life lesson from you to your brother.

My sweet, thoughtful (instead of saying I don’t know, you say I CAN’T KNOW), hilarious, graceful, buoyant, delicious, smart, clever girl.  You are the light in the room.  When you speak or smile, we all light up.  You aren’t nearly as chatty as your brother, but that makes what you choose to say, that much more important.  You observe.  You are always watching.  You share only certain parts of what you are thinking and I love the way your mind works.  You figure things out in a way that I wouldn’t always think of. You are so clever in your curiosity.  Always saying, BUT WHAT IF WE DO DIS, as if to say, there is another way of doing things.  I love that.  I am doing my best to raise a little feminist and you are doing all the work.  You don’t care about things.  Just like your mama.  We REALLY care about food.  We care about the moment.  The feeling of the thing. You can take or leave any material possession in favor of an experience.  You are incredibly resilient.  You fall down numerous times a day and bounce up declaring, I’M OKAY! only to try it over and over again.  As much as your brother is like your father you are like me and let me tell you, it will serve you well.

The two of you together.  TWINS.

“Do you know what being twins means?”
“It means we both in your belly at the same time. We had our Didas and we were playing basketball with Bebes PACI.”

“You get my puppy house Gah?”
“Here you go, Bebe.”
“Danks Gah for my puppy house”

“We take a shower today Gah.”
“A shower Bebe?  Not a baf?”
“DAH. We stinky Gah.”

“What do you want for your birthday?”

Bebe: I WANT A BROWN BABY DOLL. WIKE MY PRERRY BROWN MERMAID.
Bubby: I WANT A BROWN BABY BOY NAME HANDSOME.

I’ve never known a greater pair.  Salt and Pepper.   Bebe and Gah.  You cannot have one without the other.  You compliment each other so well, it’s really an honor to be a part of it.  Sometimes I feel as though you do a lot of the work yourselves. Your problem solving, your fighting and making up. Your caretaking of each other and of us.  The way you say kind, encouraging things to each other and give away your “turn” for things is incredible to watch as your mama.  The way you show remorse and apologize when you’ve wronged each other is even more encouraging. Your playing together and experiencing life together is a bond that I wish we all had.  I wish we could all be a twin or have twins, it is that special. You both make us laugh until we have big fat tears rolling down our faces and for that I am eternally grateful. For as hard as this parenting gig can be at times, I’ve never felt such raucous joy in my life.

 

Twins are hard, man.   Let me tell you just how hard they are.

Three years of washing so many bottles/sippies/tiny utensils/dishes.

Three years of making you food you love to eat.

Three years of making you food you deem inedible.

Three years of baths.

Three years of laundry.

Three years of WHAT IS THAT SMELL/STAIN/GOOP ON THE FLOOR

Three years of Dida.

Three years of crying.

Three years of never sleeping past 7am.

Three years of taking FOREVER to get in and out of the house.

Three years of let’s get your shoes and coats on and get going!

Three years of feeling like you are the luckiest person on the planet.

Three years of finding so many people who feel the same way you do.

Three years of epic dance parties.

Three years of absolutely incredible firsts.

Three years of the best belly laughs we’ve ever known.

Three years of the wettest warmest sobs to ever roll down our cheeks.

Three years of donuts.

Three years of  Daniel Tiger and Caillou.

Three years of footie jammies.

Three years of imaginary tea.

Three years of reading the same books over and over and over.

Three years of dominating every single park in the city.

Three years of mistakes.

Three years of triumphs.

Three years of unwavering cuteness.

Three years of questioning everything.

Three years of adventures.

Three years of worry.

Three years of celebration.

Three years of unrelenting gratitude.

Three years of NOT QUIET OR BORING that is for sure.

 

Being three means the 1st time of being able to articulate a bad dream. One week before your third birthday we heard crying “mama” so sadly. You told me “I don’t WIKE dat mean face. I don’t WIKE dat mean face”. I just kept saying “mommy is here and everything is ok.  It was just a bad dream.”  I will slay dragons for you.

I’ve gotten to be your mom for three whole years now.  Longer if you count all the time we spent playing basketball in my belly.  And I count it for sure.  The best years of my life.  The meaning you give every day, every dish, every cut up apple, every load of laundry is enormous.  It all matters.  It came close to never happening and I don’t take it for granted for one second.

I’ve never ever been more sure of anything in my life as I am of my place as your mama.  Thank you for that confidence.  You make me feel as though anything is possible each new day and for that I am thankful to you.  Nothing before you has given me that confidence.  You also tell me it’s ok when I screw up.  Just like I do with you.  And that grace you give me is a gift that we are all worthy of receiving.  I make mistakes.  You make mistakes.  Being a human being can be difficult.  We are so lucky to have each other to help us through.  As reassuring as daily life can be with you two, I also know exactly how powerless I am in the midst of terrible tragedy.  I know anything can happen and to never say never.  I know that we when it comes to you two, I have no limit to my fight or my well of gratitude.

May we never ever stop marveling at the wonder of you.  You’ve given us everything.  Before I was your mom, I didn’t know what I was missing.  Happy birthday, my sunshines.

I could go on and on as I do always, but know this.  As you hold up your three little fingers and say you are THREE years old, know that Mommy loves you the most and thinks you are the best thing that’s ever happened.  I am the luckiest Mommy in the world because of you two.  I will always love you, I will always cherish you.  I will always be your Mommy.  Even when you make mistakes and even when you disobey, Mommy always loves you the most.  I was meant to be your Mommy and you were meant to be my kids.  I will never ever take you for granted.  I will always be so grateful for you.  Some day when you are mad at me and tell me I am the worst mommy, I will still love you.  I will love you even when it’s really really hard. I now understand what my mom always felt even when things were at their worst and she thought she might lose me.  Love never stops.  Love is hard. Love is difficult at times, but it never stops.  Love feels like it will rip your heart out and smash it on the ground to pieces because it is so miraculously strong and deep and wide and powerful.  Mostly though, love  fills us up.  That’s why we do it. We are the lucky ones to be able to give and receive love.

 

#BebeandGahForever

 

See Also:

Happy First Birthday to My Twins

A Love Note to My Two Year Old Twins on Their 2nd Birthday

Moments this last year:

You transitioned to your big toddler beds

You got lost.  Once. And only once.

You learned how to go on the potty

 

ALL POSTS ON TWINS.  The whole shebang.

 

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