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I’m sure Charles Dickens didn’t have twin toddlers in mind when he wrote his novel A Tale of Two Cities, but this quote sure springs to mind when I’m dealing with my two little screaming banshees angels. The world of toddlerhood with twins is at the same time a wondrous, magical, and endearing experience and a frustrating, exasperating, and overwhelming one. My once sweet and predictable babies have turned into volatile, unpredictable imps and I have come to learn the “toddler mantra”: “NO!!!/I WANT!!!/I DON’T WANT!!!/I DO IT MYSELF!!!”

Our twins turned 2.5 last July, and since then (they are now 3) our house has been filled with invisible emotional landmines that, when stepped upon, unleash an explosion of three foot tall blond-headed fury, complete with high-pitched screams and flailing arms and legs. The problem is that you never know when you’re going to get hit with one of these landmines. For example, at the slightest (and I do mean slightest!) wrinkle/tear/ smudge/break to anything that comes within reach of my daughter’s little fingers, she unleashes her own specific brand of toddler tyranny fury, yelling over and over (and over and over and over) again: “IT’S BROKEN!!! FIX IT!!! I WANT ANOTHER ONE!!!” My son, on the other hand, explodes into a high voltage revolution the minute he doesn’t get his way, screaming at such a high pitch (morning, noon, middle-of-the-night, it doesn’t matter… he’s an equal opportunity screamer) that I am quite shocked the police haven’t come banging down our door to investigate the child torture we are so obviously inflicting upon him.

And then there are the hallmarks of toddlerhood: the hundreds of tiny playtime remnants strewn about the house like so many pieces of toy “shrapnel” (why can’t toy manufacturers glue all those little pieces together?), their resistance to just about anything we ask them to do, and their absolute INABILITY to stay focused on one thing making getting dressed, climbing into the car, or going into the house a one-hour extravaganza. Then there’s the clinginess, the sleep issues, the fears of the dark/monsters, and their fierce independence rivaling that of our forefathers and foremothers during their fight for independence from “Mother” England.

Okay, so where does the “best of times” come in? I’m glad you asked, for the toddler years are filled with them: whimsical smiles (it’s not a cliché, it’s really true!); sloppy, wet kisses from the sweetest lips you will ever have the privilege to kiss; warm hugs from tiny, vulnerable arms; a cuteness that is so adorable you can almost sense the angels in heaven smiling down at them; an intense curiosity and a strong desire to understand everything; a burgeoning self-pride spurred on by their fierce independence; an emerging sense of empathy; an amazing burst in language ability; and a well-spring of love and tenderness. Yes, toddlerhood can be difficult, but the difficult times will gradually pass (God Willing). The good times—the wonder of toddlers—“ripen” with age, giving us that sense of love and bonding—that sense of family—that we wanted when we made the decision to have children in the first place.

Posted by Cheryl W. (February 13, 2008)

When Cheryl is not busy with the worst of times and the best of times, she also blogs at New Mom Central and 50-Something Moms Blog.