Letting Go, Part II

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve excused myself for my perceived lapse in parenting skills by saying, “Well, I have twins.” I find my little saying quite useful, especially when I’m noticing that the girls’ gross motor skills lag a little behind other kids their age, particularly when it comes to climbing stairs and ladders and using playground equipment and that sort of thing. For example, our neighbor’s daughter, A., is three months younger but has been more advanced in climbing skills for months. Both she and our other friends’ son, L., were walking well by the time they were 12 months, whereas my girls weren’t fully walking until 14 and 15 months.

But, like I said, “I have twins.” Which means my girls spent more time in the Pack N Play, more time in their strollers, and less time at the playground, and that I was less tolerant of climbing on the couch or getting near the stairs. I simply couldn’t manage keeping two babies safe while they toddled in different directions, so I restricted their movement quite a bit, and that means it's taken them a tiny bit longer to develop the same skills as their singleton friends. I didn’t (and don’t) stress about this, because their development is perfectly within the normal range, and I knew they would (and will) “catch up” if there is any catching up to be done.

Well, recently we went to Terra Burger, a new (delicious) organic burger place by our house with an awesome playscape. I noted to myself that “when the girls got older” it would really be great, since the playscape was really for kids at least 3, with big ladders and slides and lots of openings for jumping, rock climbing, pole sliding, and other deadly activities.

Still, I allowed the girls to climb up the easy ladder to go down the easy slide while I hovered near, climbing behind them on the ladder, holding hands down the slide, freaking out when they crowded each other at the top of the slide; you know, all the responsible things.

I noticed with interest when the other family with twins arrived; the kids were boy/girl and looked to be identically aged to Monkey and Turtle, and the parents seemed to be close to my age as well (I notice the parents’ ages, being a little older than most mothers of two year olds). We sat at tables next to each other and I saw the look the other twin momma gave our table, then saw her murmur something to the twin daddy. I’m sure she was commenting about how good our girls were, sitting still and eating everything on their plates. How do I know this? Because I was watching in absolute astonishment as THEIR kids took one bite of food and then rushed back to the playscape – the “big” side of the playscape, mind you – and played and played, up and down and all around, without so much as a stumble. I noticed their parents never took their eyes off the kids, yet neither did they hover like overanxious hens. They sat at their table and watched their kids have a blast.

I confirmed with the other twin momma that there was in fact just a one week difference in the ages of our children (hers were younger). I sighed as we left, realizing that “I have twins” would no longer suffice as my reason for avoiding play equipment over 12 inches tall. I know Turtle’s fall earlier this year (see Letting Go, April 16) has continued to haunt me. I know I have to try again to let go of that fear. I know it’s time for me to sit at my table and watch my kids have a blast. Will I actually do that? Stay tuned . . . .