The gingers and I had an impromptu lunch at Mystic Drawbridge Ice Cream. Highly recommend. Apologies for the photo overload.

The kids are cute but the sandwich menu is the real star of this photo.

Lemon chocolate kiss is my go-to.

People ask me that all the time. I smile and say “No, they’re just best friends.”

Last night I brought them to a meeting and left them in the rec area with instructions to take care of each other. After about half an hour I heard them both crying so I ran out to check – apparently one of the older girls (she was maybe 7?) had gotten concerned with how rough my kids were playing and picked Caroline up to move her away. Both gingers started SOBBING and Evan told me “That mean girl took my baby sister away!” I had to let them come into the meeting and play cars under the table to reassure them no one would try to break them up again.

This might sounds strange – or it might make absolute total sense to you, because you feel the same way – but having two kids is WAY easier than having one.

I can’t actually prove that, either scientifically or anecdotally, since I’ve never had one kid at this age and compared it to having two kids at this age. Comparing what life was like with one baby or with one toddler while I was pregnant with a second hardly seems fair, since babies and pregnancy are both harder in general than preschool aged kids. Well, harder when it comes to the amount of serious hands-on work, not harder when it comes to handing acts of child terrorism and manipulation. And none of this applies to having twins, since the amount of work doubles at the same rate. I can’t even imagine how hard that would be compared to just having two semi-close together. Plus this probably doesn’t work on kids who are a lot farther apart – I don’t think having me was very helpful to my mother when she had my brother seven years later. I was too busy with seven year old stuff to play with a baby or fetch things or help out.

I think I need to start over.

Evan and Caroline together is WAY easier than just having one ginger Davis bebeh.

They don’t always get along, but I’d say we’re at about an 80% best friends/20% hitting each other ratio. After the zoo on Saturday, I tossed them both in the car while I loaded up the stroller with instructions to take their coats off and get in their seats. Caroline’s coat had velcro and a zipper, which was too much for her to figure out, so she turned to Evan and said “Help?” He immediately un-velcroed and un-zipped her coat, then said “Here Caroline, get in your seat and I’ll give you your juice.” It was adorable, and heart-melting, and a huge help for me. They do stuff like that all the time. Their teacher said every time they see each other at school (they’re in different classes) they hug or touch fingers through the playground fence or say “I MISS YOU!”

Hand-holding so no one runs into traffic, helping with coats and hats, fetching things for each other, finding shoes, finding lost toys – ALL THINGS I would have to do if they weren’t doing it for each other. On top of making my life easier, I like to think I’m making them better, nicer people. They’re both pretty good at sharing and taking turns for small, selfish children. They’re good at playing games with other kids or making friends or joining a group. I’ve been asked four times this week if they’re twins, since even strangers can see how close they are.

I don’t know if they’re going to be best friends forever. I doubt it, although I hope they always like each other. But right now having two kids to play with each other, help each other and help me is awesome. Two gingers are definitely better than one.

I am in a mood, by which I mean I’ve got a serious case of the why-do-I-even-bother’s? Some days nothing feels as pointless as being a stay at home mom, especially when it’s February and we’ve barely left the house in days and neither kid is sleeping through the night and they openly scoffed at the super cute macaroni craft I was counting on to keep us from strangling each other on Monday. Stop rolling your eyes at me and make a damn necklace already. 

The second I pick up a room it gets destroyed. As soon as I make a snack it’s gone and Caroline needs “somethin’ else eat”. I get 90% of the clothes laundry done and realize every sheet and towel in the house is filthy and needs to be washed. 60 seconds after I scrub the bathroom floor Evan has peed on it. Again.

It doesn’t help that I am losing – desperately – the fight against clutter and kids’ toys. For every box I take to Goodwill or basket I drop off at the consignment shop with a note that says “DONATE ANYTHING YOU WON’T TAKE FTLOG GET IT AWAY FROM ME” it seems like 5 more things appear in the house. I am totally out of places to put toys, so piling them up and shoving them into corners is the current strategy and that strategy sucks. Permanent removal is the only feasible plan of attack. I need 3 uninterrupted hours, a dozen trash bags and a memory-wiping device so Evan doesn’t ask “Mommy, what happened to my broken fire truck? I LOVED my broken fire truck!!!”

But that’s not going to happen. Instead, I’m going to put clean clothes on children, wash dirty clothes, feed children, wash dirty dishes, put away clean dishes, clean floor, clean other floor, clean other floor, clean first floor again, wash dirty children, put children to bed, clean the kitchen, wash myself, collapse. Because even though at the end of the day I have practically nothing to show for it, I’m exhausted. And that’s the worst part – nothing to show for it. I don’t have a spotless house or an organized pantry or a freezer full of meals or anything else beyond a headache. How come I can never get ahead?

I realize most of my angst is a result of a long, cold winter and a particular stage of childhood that requires maximum assistance. (Obviously a newborn requires a lot more full-time care but a newborn is incapable of dumping 200 Legos out on the floor. I’m looking at a ratio here.) There’s only so many cleaning-up games they’re willing to play before they realize those aren’t very good games at all. Closeness and familiarity are the enemies this time of year and a change in routine is the only solution. We need to be out of the house, if only so I can end the day with the same mess I woke up to, not one that’s 10 time worse. I’ve pretty much given up on February and I’m hoping too much TV, too many granola bars and too many dust bunnies don’t do the kids any permanent harm for the rest of this week.

C’mon March, I know you can do better.

p.s. We did manage to get Caroline’s room clean today – floor vacuumed and everything! – which is enough of a dent in the disaster that I’m already feeling better. This is how the kids “helped” me clean:

Moping

Hiding

Posing

More posing

Reflecting

Rocking

Resting

Playing

p.p.s. The gingers can even make February bearable. I love them to pieces.