Twindergarten

So here we are...a mere two weeks, and our two kids are off to kindergarten.

We've done preschool and Pre-K, yet somehow this seems altogether different. And I'm not talking about the difference between 1/2 day and full day. Nor am I gauging the disparity as an academic factor. (Although by the supplies required and acquired---see above---that is a significant aspect!)

For me, this transition to "real-school" is taking on an intensity right up there with the twin-magnified sleep-deprivation of the first few weeks and the utter chaos and unpredictability of tandem toilet training---to date, the two challenges I cite sans hesitation when asked "What has been the hardest thing about parenting twins?"

Easing my husband's and my process during those thankfully time-blurred, doubly daunting stages has been a mantra my husband aptly phrased: "Two and through." Acknowledging that yes, the tough tasks are dually so---times that could actually provide fodder for the oft-bandied phrase "Double Trouble." But as most honest twin parents I think will admit (unless they are in the middle of the first few sleepless weeks or the potentially numerous weeks/months of plural potty training), the windows of twice the wonderment have always more than balanced the scales.

Alas now, "two and through" (rather than providing its former solace and reminder of light at the end of the proverbial tunnel) has taken on an almost tragic aspect. Even with the undeniable hardships of day-to-day life with two same-age siblings (and I won't lie to you, there have been numerous days where but for prayer, wine and the love of a good man, I'd never have made it through), when it comes down to sweet and savory years of babydom, toddlerdom, stay-at-home-with-Mommydom, for all ostensible purposes; sadly, our two are through.

Interestingly enough, our twins feel the dichotomy too in their twinimitable way. One minute, Sarah maturely insists on answering the family phone and making her own sandwich, yet the next moment re-adopts the whiny cadence and referring to herself in the third-person we fought so diligently at age three. Darren wants to tie his shoes, read his own books and talk with friends on the phone; but suddenly in the middle of the highway, he wants to pull over for a "Mommy hug."

I feel it too, My Sweeties. No doubt after the smiles and hugs of encouragement upon dropping you two off in your respective classes that first day of school, I'll want to pull over for a big Daddy hug.