Lost in Translation

I had always thought that my baby's first word would be this big dramatic event like Maggie Simpson's first word, and I would videotape it and broadcast it to my friends and family and CNN and celebrate it with a parade down 24th Street, but apparently the reality is nothing like that at all. I don't have the slightest clue when Leah and Riley said their first word, only the vague sense that whenever the heck it did happen, I definitely missed it.

First, there's the problem of judging what counts as a word. For a few weeks now, whenever Leah drops something or knocks something off a table, she solemnly says "Uh oh". Is "Uh oh" a word? Isn't that two words, actually? "Uh" and "oh" are both in the dictionary, right? Who cares if it doesn't mean anything? Two points for Gryffindor, I say.

Leah and Riley have been saying "mamamama" and "dadadadada" for weeks too, but to paraphrase Inigo Montoya, I don't think those words mean what you think they mean, girls. It's not like they point to Kathy and say "mama" or point to me and say "dada". Basically, when the girls cry, they scream "mamamama!" and when they're happy they chant "dadadada!" So, roughly translated, in Le-Ril language:

• "mamamama" = Life sucks!
• "dadadadada" = Life is good!
  

Read into it what you will, folks.

Of course, when they cry "mamamama", that does make mommy come running, and when they say "dadadada", that does make daddy play with them more. Which is what they want anyway, so maybe they do know what they're saying after all.

The basic problem is that because most of what comes out of their mouths sounds like random babbling, you're not really sure they're actually saying a word until after they say it a hundred times. Like this morning, I think Riley might have said "pebble doth moo", but I think I'll see if she says it again before I jump to any conclusions, like my daughter's on LSD.

Leah has been using one word pretty consistently at meal times: "abwa". As in "agua". As in water. Leah saying "abwa" is pretty easy to miss, since abwa sounds a heckuva lot like random babbling. At first I thought she just liked the sound of the word -- I mean, I can see the appeal, it's a damn fine sounding pair of syllables. Still, when she said "abwa", we would give her water, and she would usually smile and be happy. But nowadays, in the middle of every meal, she'll abruptly stop eating, look one of us square in the eyes, and say "abwa", and dammit, she will not eat another bite until you give her that cup of abwa. That girl knows what she's saying, and she knows that we know what she's saying, and she will not allow her word to go unheeded.

Leah saying "abwa" doesn't necessarily mean she's thirsty, mind you. One out of four times, we'll give her the water bottle and she'll gleefully and ceremoniously throw it to the floor. And of course, you know what she says then: "uh oh".

My thoughts exactly, Leah. Uh oh, indeed.

Sophie's Choice

Leah's crawling pretty well now, which means that we finally have two mobile babies in the house. I had been kinda dreading this situation a little bit, mainly because I had this recurring vision in my head of Leah and Riley swiftly crawling away from me in opposite directions, one crawling toward a pile of broken glass and the other simultaneously crawling toward a nest of poisonous spiders. And there's not enough time to save both girls, so I've got to decide which one to save, and time is running out! What to do?

I'm not quite sure why I'm not allowed to save one and then the other, nor am I sure why there are random piles of broken glass and spider nests in my house in this vision, but hey, nobody said my visions made any sense.

Anyway, this vision has not come to fruition because so far the girls never seem to go in opposite directions - they're pretty much always going in the same direction. Or more specifically, Leah's always going in Riley's direction. If Riley's "reading" a book off in a corner, Leah will crawl over to where Riley is and either (a) try to take her book away, (b) try to use Riley as a prop to lift herself up to standing position, or (c) sit obtrusively right in Riley's personal space, effectively boxing Riley into the corner like a trapped rat.

Leah and Riley have also become quite fond of climbing on mommy and daddy, which would be awesomely cute if one baby was climbing on mommy and one baby was climbing on daddy. Unfortunately, this never happens. Leah and Riley always want to climb the SAME parent at the SAME time, usually mommy. And of course while they're always climbing on mommy at the same time, they don't really like to share mommy's attention, so as they start climbing, they're giving each other the stink-eye and making this screechy, complainey whining noise that sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard.

It's quite a sight - Kathy sitting there helplessly trying to manage to these screeching babies crawling all over her with arms and legs flying everywhere. She has to try to sit sorta still so that she doesn't accidentally knock the girls off of her, but she also has to keep the girls from biting or hitting each other while also being ready to catch the girls if one of them falls. And meanwhile I sit there, feeling like I should be trying to help somehow, but if daddy tries to reach in and grab one of the babies and separate her from mommy, the screechy whiny noise volume goes up to eleven.

And so I usually just sit there and enjoy the show. Sorry, mommy. Look at the bright side, though -- it's better than having to protect your daughters from broken glass and poisonous spiders.

Mmm. Pie.

The good thing about growing up with a twin sister is that there's always someone there with you, sharing all your experiences. The bad thing about growing up with a twin sister is that your sister's ALWAYS there with you, sharing ALL your experiences. Twins don't really get much "me" time, I guess. Over their entire twelve-month lives, I don't think that Leah and Riley have been separated for more than maybe 3 hours at a time, and even that's pretty rare -- most days they're probably in the same room for about 23.9 out of 24 hours. It's got to get a little monotonous for them. You wake up in the morning, your sister's there. You go to bed at night, your sister's there. You're eating, your sister's there. All your clothes, your toys, your books - they don't really belong to you, they belong to you AND your sister. It's kinda like how your marriage or relationship would be if you worked in the same room, ate every meal together, and spent every moment of your free time together. Oh, and shared all your clothes. Once in awhile, no matter how great your relationship, you'd probably get sick of having that other person around. Or at the very least, you'd get tired of wearing clothes that look really funny on you.

Riley definitely seems to be getting a little weary of having Leah in her face all the time. Riley will be playing quietly with her toy, and Leah will bother her by trying to take her toy, or shrieking in her face, or "patting" (aka, slapping) her on the top of the head, or just generally getting in Riley's personal space. Riley will then whine and shoot mommy and daddy a pleading look that says "can you PLEASE get this girl to leave me the hell ALONE?" And then she'll frown and rotate her body away from Leah so that she won't take her toy.

Or, Kathy and I sometimes play this "peek-a-boo" type game with Leah and Riley, where Kathy walks Riley down the hall while I hide with Leah around the corner. And then Leah and I suddenly pop out from around the corner and start "running" toward Riley and Kathy. I love watching the contrasting reactions. Leah will be smiling ear to ear, shrieking and laughing, and opening her mouth in preparation for planting a sloppy wet kiss on Riley. Riley, on the other hand, will just sigh with this resigned, semi-exasperated look on her face like a teenage girl whose little brother won't leave her alone, and you can see the cartoon thought-bubble over her head that says "Here comes that crazy, shrieky, slobbery girl again. Oh Lord, will I never get any peace?"

So, in the pie chart of Leah and Riley's twin-sister relationship:

• 25% of the time, Leah and Riley are totally ignoring each other.

• 25% of the time, Leah and Riley are slightly annoyed at each other, but grudgingly tolerant.

• 25% of the time, Leah and Riley are fighting to the death over something, usually either a toy or mommy's attention.

• 23.8% of the time, Leah is enchanted by Riley, but Riley just wants her to go away.

But about 1.2% of the time, the moon shifts, the tides turn, and the planets of Leah and Riley align in the heavens. And then behold -- the wondrous sight of Leah and Riley enjoying each other's company! They'll exchange this look, and then suddenly they'll be going back and forth making funny noises and giggling like schoolgirls. Or they'll have a huge giggly water-splash fight in the bathtub. Or they'll gleefully roll around next to each other on the bed or the couch, basking in the glow of having this built-in best friend. And suddenly all is well with the world for mommy and daddy. Ah yes, life is pretty freaking sweet for us twin parents. About 1.2% of the time, that is.

Eh, the other 98.8% of the time ain't all that bad either.

Both Sides Now

In the past couple weeks, with Leah and Riley's birthday party and various other social engagements, it has become clear to me that Leah and Riley each have two separate personalities: one for when other adults are around, and one for when they're just sitting at home with mom and dad.

Riley is an extremely charming girl when she's sitting at home. She'll be just sitting there and suddenly start laughing for no apparent reason. And then anything mommy or daddy does becomes hi-LAR-ious to her, causing her to laugh until her face is red and tears are streaming down her face. Daddy drops a toy on the floor: BWAA- HAAA- HAAA! Mommy turns around suddenly: BWAA-HAAA-HAAA! Daddy scratches his head: BWAA-HAAA-HAAA! Stop it, Daddy, you're killin' me!

Riley's also queen of the mouth noises. Her current specialty is that motorboat-like sound that you can make if you sorta vibrate your finger between your upper and lower lip. Boy, does Riley love that sound. If she hasn't made that sound in awhile, Riley will say to herself "Hey, I haven't made that motorboat sound since five minutes ago, have I? Well, here we go then! Bbbbbabbbbbbba! Ah, much better."

Or at least that's how I think you spell the motorboat sound. Blogger spell-check apparently disagrees with me on that one, though.

The problem is that Riley will never duplicate these charming antics when there are adults around that she doesn't know. As soon as there are other adults around, she'll retreat into her shell like the WB frog that dances and sings Michigan Rag all night when nobody's watching. Whenever we want to show off how cute Riley is, like at her birthday party, she will just sit there silently with a sour look on her face. Ribbit.

Leah, on the other hand, is a total freaking ham. She could charm the pants off even the most baby-hating adult. You put her in front of an adult, any adult, and she'll smile this huge broad smile that could melt the polar ice caps, and then either start applauding, or make funny faces, or she'll start "conversing" with the person in very expressive sounding baby-language. Or if you a put a book in her hands, she'll read the book to you, although the "reading" is in some unknown language that only Leah understands:

Sounds vaguely Croatian to me.

So Leah's this total charmer in public, but recently at home, it's been a different story. She can be plenty charming at home too, but over the past few weeks we've noticed that she's been more and more frequently crossing over to the Dark Side. Yes, Leah has recently discovered the T-word. As in T-A-N-T-R-U-M. As in the awesome new way to get what Leah wants, anytime she wants.

Riley has a toy Leah wants. Leah tries to take it. Riley takes it back. Leah throws a tantrum.

We try to brush Leah's teeth. Leah wants to hold the toothbrush. Mommy and Daddy let Leah hold the toothbrush. After Leah spends 25 minutes chewing on the toothbrush, Mommy and Daddy try to take the toothbrush away from her. Leah throws a tantrum.

Lately, in the blog of our lives, more and more paragraphs are ending with the phrase "Leah throws a tantrum". But it pretty much only happens when we're at home - never in public. I mean if we could just combine the "At-Home Riley" and the "In-Public Leah", now THAT would be one crazy-happy baby.

Ah well, I guess we can live with both sides of our daughters. I mean, if the Force didn't have a Dark Side, then it wouldn't be the Force, would it?