This Week in Twin Momma Land

Monkey

Monkey, all of a sudden, won't wear a shirt with a tag in it, because "it hurts."

When asked this evening how she got those scratches on the back of her thigh, she said "Bailey did it." Bailey is her classmate at preschool. "How did she do it?" asked Twin Daddy. "With her bellybutton," said Monkey. Of course.

Monkey developed a "boo-boo on my nose" in response to Turtle's eye injury. She does have a chapped nose from her recent cold and so we indulge her, putting Aquafor ointment on her nose as well as Turtle's rapidly healing scars. Turtle had a follow-up appointment this week to confirm her healing is going well (it is), and as the nurse was finishing up with us Monkey said, "Momma." "Yes, honey?" I said. She said something so softly that I put my head next to hers and said, "What is it, honey?" "My nose," she whispered again, so very softly that I only know she said it because I saw her lips move and felt her breath on my face. I looked at her looking at me with so much faith, took a deep breath and said, "Um, excuse me nurse?" "Yes?" asked the nurse. "Monkey has a boo-boo on her nose, and we were hoping you could check it out for her." The nurse looked at me for a second and I kind of raised my eyebrows, and then she said, "Oh of course!" and made a big production about getting the little scope with a light that they use to check ears and eyes. After she thoroughly checked Monkey's nose, she said, "It looks good, just keep it clean and it will be all better soon. Ok?" "Ok," said Monkey, completely validated. The nurse became a star on my "A" list.

Turtle

Turtle's eye is so healed that when people who know about her accident see her for the first time, they say, "Which eye?" She tells people, "I have a boo-boo on my eye." When they say, "I know, I'm sorry," she continues, very importantly, "The family dog bit me."

She has taken to licking Monkey in the face during bath time. This causes a great deal of giggling from everyone.

Tonight she said, "I'm so big" and stretched herself as tall as she could and did something with her arms. I finally realized that she was flexing her muscles for us.

Every time she offers me food now, she says, "Pretend bite Momma, pretend. Don't take a real bite." And then she launches into this story: On Valentine's Day, I got her and Monkey each a heart-shaped chocolate lollipop. They ate them in Turtle's hospital room. Monkey offered me a bite of hers, and I took one. Then Turtle offered me a bite. I took one. She cried. And cried. And cried. She put her head on Twin Daddy's shoulder and cried, "Mommy took a real bite of my lollipop Daddy, a real bite." This went on for infinity. After I had apologized 8 million times and promised to never take a real bite again, she calmed down. But she hasn't forgotten. Oh no. Every chance she gets, she says, "Mommy, you took a real bite of my lollipop. And I cried." Like I could ever forget about the time I took candy from my hospitalized baby.

Monkey's Song

Many readers already know that our family dog bit Turtle in the face last Friday. After emergency plastic surgery and several days in the hospital, she is home and doing wonderfully. In fact, it looks like she simply has a black eye and a few scratches, which is unbelievable considering that 5 days ago her eye looked ripped apart and I feared she would be permanently disfigured as I drove her to the emergency room. The staff and facility at Dell Children's Hospital is amazing; and Dr. Patrick Kelley, the Chief of Plastic Surgery and the person responsible for Turtle's amazing recovery, is well worth whatever outrageous out-of- pocket/after insurance amounts we will eventually owe for two surgeries and three nights in the hospital.

Monkey summed up our experience with a song she spontaneously made up as she sat down to dinner tonight. Without any help or prompting, she sang this completely intact, roughly to the tune of "Itsy Bitsy Spider." (I use that basic tune to sing all sorts of silly songs that the girls ask me to make up on a regular basis). I wrote her song down within minutes of her singing it because I was so amazed; I'm not sure I got it exactly verbatim but if not, it is very close:

Turtle, Turtle,
you have a booboo on your eye.
A dog bit you
and you had to go to the hospital,
to have your medicine drink
and some milk.

Now you're all better
And you had little bears there
and there were some babies
and then Monkey got a bear.

Being the Lady

Yesterday Turtle put two of her dolls in her grocery cart and said, "I have twins, Mommy!" I looked over and smiled. Then she said, "Be the lady, Mommy." I knew exactly what she meant without further explanation. I walked up to her cart and in a high pitched voice said, "Oh, are they twins??" "Yes," she said, smiling proudly. "Well," I continued in my high-pitched lady voice, "they sure are beautiful. You're so lucky!" She nodded and pushed her cart away.

While it's cute and brilliant that Turtle has turned my frequent interaction with female shoppers into the "Be the Lady" game, what I can't get over is how I knew instantantly what she meant when she asked me to be the lady, even though it was the very first time she'd ever asked it of me. I didn't think, I didn't ask her to repeat herself, I didn't wonder if she meant the cashier. I just went directly into the role play. It was like we had a moment of recognition, when two minds were equal in the shared knowledge of our mutual experience. It was like communicating with someone with whom you have such a deep history that barely a word has to be spoken in order for you to both know everything that is in the other person's mind. It was a glimpse into the inside jokes, the secrets, and the drama that will one day be part of my relationship with this child, and it was amazing.