You remember how, just a few weeks ago, I talked about what a challenging phase Daniel was going through?  I wrote about it on HDYDI, too, how I feel crappy to have times when I prefer one kid over the other.

And, as predicted, they have now done the great twin personality switcheroo.

This is not to say they are suddenly fundamentally different kids, of course.  But the dial has been turned up on one and down on the other.  Daniel seems to now be spending more time as his happy, silly, engaging self.

Rebecca, on the other hand…. Hoo, boy.

The girl has always been capable of epic tantrums, even at two days old.  Much of the time, she’s fairly even.  Independent, easily entertained, pretty chill.  Until the RAGE reappears.  OMG, the RAGE.

The RAGE has been making extraordinarily frequent appearances as of the last week or so.  This morning she had her first tantrum before getting out of bed.  There was not really a marked improvement for the rest of the day.

Her tantrums seem to have a subtly different underlying theme than Daniel’s.  His was all about grasping control over his environment, over other people.  Rebecca’s fits are nearly all set off by something having to do with “Becca do it by self.”  It’s all about independence.  In a way, that is still in the same theme as “control,” but a slightly different side.

And, yes, before you even say it… I know she totally gets this from me.

Naturally, she and I are butting heads in a major way right now.  I try to pick my battles. I try to let her do the things that she is capable of doing, and try things that she probably can’t do.  But she gets set off at the drop of a hat.  I so much as look at her the wrong way at the wrong time and it’s all over. I spend a lot of time ignoring her and hanging out with Daniel when she’s in the middle of a screaming fit.  But sometimes we just need to get out the door and in the car, and she is just not having it.  Yeesh.

One way in which I’m grateful for having twins is the way they do seem to alternate a lot of these phases.  It helps to know that it will pass.  That my sweet kid will come back, and that they’ll likely trade places again, so I don’t have to feel too guilty about the fact that I’d rather spend time with one over the other at times like these.

In the meantime, she still has her shining moments of funny phrases and expressions that she’s picked up from me and M.  She initiates games with her brother, she gives hugs and kisses to the dog (and everything else), and tucks her “friends” (stuffed animals) into bed.  She has that perfect toddler giggle fit down pat.

But she has also mastered the phrase “No, Mommy!  Leave it alone!”

So, you know, I’ll just have to put my head down and get through the rest of this phase.  Good times.

So, we have a bathtime issue in my house. Truth be told, we’ve had this issue for a little while now (3 weeks? 6 months? time is a blur…).  Specifically, it involves water, shampoo, and a ridiculous amount of screaming.

Rebecca has never liked getting her head wet. No amount of trying to teach her to tip her head backwards or close her eyes has ever really helped. And she certainly has a flair for the dramatic, so recently the screaming about hair-washing has really escalated.  At the first hint of bathtime, she immediately starts with the slightly-frantic “no shampoo! no shampoo!”  Good times.

Daniel used to be no problem at all with hair washing. He listened reasonably well when I told him to look up and put his head back, and it generally just didn’t phase him.  Now, oh lordy.  He literally wails with the exact same tone in his cry as though he’s just gotten three shots at the pediatrician’s, or has somersaulted down the front stairs.  Pain, horror, fear. It’s really quite something.

Naturally, we’ve cut down the frequency of shampoo in our house to once every 3 or 4 days. But even still, the screaming (which is very nearly as bad even if I just do a quick rinse with water and a washcloth) has got to stop. Entirely too much stress and drama at the end of the day.  So I have decided to implement our very first sticker chart.

A few minutes in word processing, and this is what we’ve got.  They’re taped up right outside our upstairs bathroom, and we did our best to really talk it up over the weekend.  The deal is this: no crying in the bathtub, and you get a sticker (and a whole lot of fuss from mom & dad). That’s it.  I’ll even let you slide if you require a reminder or two while in the bath, as long as any whining and pre-crying stops. I even ramped up slowly. The first night involved no water anywhere near the hair. The second night was just water, no shampoo. Tonight, if I’m feeling brave, I might go all the way.

The results after the first two nights are interesting, though probably not surprising if I stop to think about it. Rebecca, who has always hated water on her hair, is also generally less defiant and stubborn, as well as eager to please and into rules (and stickers).  Stickers earned both nights, and throughout the remainder of bedtime, she kept talking about how she didn’t cry in the tub, and got a sticker. Sweet!  Daniel, on the other hand… oh, Daniel.  First night with no water was OK, but last night he most definitely did not earn his sticker. Wailing, complete with his trademark blue lips from not breathing enough while freaking out.  Still, I’ll hold out hope for a few more nights, especially if he really starts to notice that his sister gets a sticker and lots of praise and he doesn’t.

So, what has been a good use of sticker charts in your house?

Oh, you are so glad you were not on the plane with us today.

They have been in pretty defiant, touchy moods all weekend, and Sunday was definitely no exception.

We had to wake them up from their nap in order to get to the airport on time. Never a good thing.

They didn’t want to say goodbye to Nana (M’s grandmother, whose deteriorating health was the primary motivator for the trip).

They didn’t want to get into their carseats.

They didn’t want to get out of their carseats.

They didn’t want to give up their blankets/stuffed animals for the benefit of security.

They wanted to push their carseats (equipped, of course, with the GoGo Kidz) down the terminal hallway.

They did NOT want any help.

Rebecca ended up getting strapped into the seat against her will and screamed hysterically for approximately 15-20 minutes.

As soon as she calmed down, Daniel got in on the act.

They’re hungry. They want a banana. NO banana! They want crackers. NO crackers! Et cetera, et cetera.

No pre-boarding announcement, so we get to whack people on the arms with the carseats coming down the aisle.

Cranky lady in the aisle seat was not pleased to learn we were in her row.

Rebecca decided to sit with me. Daniel freaked. For nearly half an hour until we could switch.

Rebecca ate her body weight in Goldfish crackers.

Daniel wailed for his blanket. And immediately threw it on the floor. Then wailed to get it back. Repeat for books, toys, food, and anything else you might attempt to use for calming or entertainment.

Screaming and complaining continued for the vast majority of the flight.

More freaking while waiting to get off the airplane.

More freaking when I said Daniel could not push the carseat from the gate to baggage claim (by the way, at this point he was not wearing any pants, as his were somehow soaked. We were quite a sight…).

Oh thank god, back in our car.

What the hell do you mean there’s stop-and-go traffic at 8:15 on a Sunday night?

Sure, we can have McDonald’s drive-thru for a two-hour-late dinner. Why not?

Good lord, get them in the tub. Make this day over.

Daniel, why are you saying “yucky” and holding out your hand?

Poop. His. In the tub.

One story. Lights out.

Fin.

21 months. 1.75 years. My, how time flies.

Oh, Daniel.  It’s been a rough month or two.  We seem back to the days when we called you Senor Fussy-Pants. True to your longtime nature, you are spending a lot of time sort of inexplicably upset or losing it over the tiniest of things. This part of toddlerhood is hitting you and me pretty hard. Your stubborn streak (where could you have gotten that from?) is coming through in a lot of outright defiance.  And once you say “no” when you know you shouldn’t, much as I might try to offer an alternative to escalating the situation, you dig in your heels and get a particularly petulant look on your face.  It’s hard to snap you out of it when you’re in a state like that. The only thing that seems to do it is sleep, which can make for some very long afternoons.  I feel like I need a better approach with you, but I don’t know what it is.

That said, people who meet you still ask me if you ever stop smiling.  Your smile is the best, and it takes up your whole face.  You don’t seem to ever stop talking.  You mimic everything you hear.  You’ve mastered two- and three-word combos, a big favorite being “big garbage truck.”  (My personal favorite is the super-sweet “thank you, Mommy!”) You will often repeat a word or phrase incessantly until one of us acknowledges what you’re saying and repeats it back to you.  You seem to want the validation.  You’ve got your colors down pat, as well as most of your numbers up to 10 and maybe half of the alphabet.  You’ve just gotten into a big book phase and are constantly asking me to read to you, especially Don’t Let the Pigeon Drive the Bus.  Or, really, anything that involves a bus.

A few months of gymnastics is rubbing off, and you’re hanging and swinging on anything you can find.  You can climb up and down the rung-ladder on the swingset, but seem to have developed a strange (hopefully temporary) aversion to slides. You’re a little clumsy and seem to manage to fall in spectacular ways, but that doesn’t seem to put a huge damper on your enthusiasm.  You like play-doh and markers and chalk.

You’re getting into a hitting and kicking phase, and the funny-if-it-weren’t-kinda-sad part is that you narrate the entire time. “Hitting Mommy! Kicking Daddy!”  It’s not even always done in anger. It’s weird, and I’m not entirely sure how to deal with it.  But you also typically want anything that your sister has, which results in shrieks of “my turn! my turn!” and attempts to grab the coveted object.  It’s not a great situation.

But even though you can get wound up and frustrating and we can push each other’s buttons, you can also be the sweetest darn thing around and I love all of your drooly kisses.

Rebecca, my dear, you are really quite something.  On the whole, I don’t think this age is hitting you quite as hard. Oh, sure, you can throw a tantrum with the best of ‘em.  But they generally seem to be farther and fewer between, as well as shorter in duration, than your brother’s.  Again, you are true to your earliest days.  You are pretty easygoing and happy most of the time, until a switch flips and the RAGE comes out. It’s quite something to behold.

While you are still somewhat reserved with strangers, your absolute aversion to them has passed. You warmed up quickly to your uncle and Gramps when they visited this week.  You are silly, daring, independent, and have clear ideas of what you want.  Thankfully, you use the word “yeah” at least as often as “no.”  Rebecca, do you want a snack? Yeah! Are you a silly girl? Yeah! Was that a flagrant foul in the Bulls/Celtics game? Yeah! Your expressive language is a bit behind your brother’s. You seem to have fewer total words, and are only just starting the two-word combos.  Much of the time you run around spouting gibberish.  But here’s the thing… you’re clearly too clever for your my own good.  You take it all in and know exactly what’s going on.  I suspect that gibberish you shriek is, in your mind, complete sentences. You have a lot to say. You’re also quite good with colors, letters, and numbers.

You are such an adventurous monkey.  Maybe it’s your small size working in your favor, but you’re very agile.  You’re great at climbing, balancing, and anything else that involves gross motor coordination.  You love to draw, and use play-doh one color at a time (sometimes for only a few seconds before saying “all done!” and requesting demanding the next color).  Your spontaneous hugs and kisses for me, M, Daniel, and various animals and dolls is the cutest darn thing I’ve ever seen.

You’re a spunky little thing, and I maintain we’ll see some real trouble out of you.  But so far, the mischief is mostly just endearing.

The only way we could convince both of you to sit on the chair today was with Gramps and a book.  You’re always on the move.  You play together and chase each other, which is awesome.  You also fight and scream and hit and steal, which is awesome.  For as often as you seem to get under each other’s skin, you also constantly ask for the other if you’re separated for any reason.  It’s very sweet.

I could go on and on about your daily habits and funny things you say and do.  But I’ll stop now and just say happy 21-month birthday.  How did we get so close to two?

Posting has been sparse lately, due in part to the fact that this age is completely kicking my ass.  The whining, the defiance, the tantrums, the limited communication skills, the total and utter lack of consistency or logic (I know, I’ve got a LONG way to go).  Typical toddler stuff, but so completely exhausting and exasperating that I don’t even want to write about it.  It’s not that I’m trying to be excessively positive or Pollyanna-ish in my blogging.  On the contrary, I’m very much in favor of honesty and talking about the shitty parts of parenting right along with the fun stuff. I don’t want to pretend everything is fine and dandy when it isn’t. But in practice, I just don’t feel like I have all that much to say. I don’t even want to listen to myself complain about it.  Kids are inexplicably cranky. There’s screaming and crying and refusal of food.  7:00PM is my very favorite time of day because I get to put them in bed and walk away. End of story.

Thankfully, of course, not every part of every day is so horrid. When they’re not throwing tantrums over… well… I have no idea what most of them are about, they are also super funny and super cute. And talking up a storm and recognizing letters, numbers, and colors. As I have said before, the good parts of parenting and kids continue to get better, even if the bad parts continue to evolve into new ways of sucking ass.  As M says, “it’s a good thing you’re cute, kid…….”

Today was not as bad as some, at least in so much as Daniel didn’t have a complete meltdown at bedtime (as he did the two previous nights).  So, in that light, I will share the cutest damn series of photos from a gorgeous day outside on Friday. And remind myself of the cuteness, so I don’t dwell on the tantrums.