The Switch - Another Twin Phenomenon?

I have one good child and one bad child. Almost always. One is good. One is bad.

If you've been following along for any length of time, you'll think, 'Oh, I've got this. Natalina is the bad twin, and Dulce is the good twin.'

And you'd be wrong.

Natalina, modeling sadface

Natalina had been the "bad" twin for at least six months running, where as Dulce was the "good" twin for that time. Just when my husband and I had resigned ourselves to our toddlers' personalities, "the switch" happened. This is not the first time we've come across the switch. It's just the first time a phase has lasted so long before the switch occurs.

First, let's define good and bad, since both of my girls are pretty much good (in my opinion) always.

Dulce, modeling happyface

The "good" twin will go out of her way to make herself understood. She will calmly address problems and requests, waiting for you to catch up, giving you slack when you need it, and understanding your other obligations. She will smile and laugh easily. She will be very affectionate. She will listen well, obeying commands and arguing in a reasonable way when she does not care to obey. Her memory is short, and she doesn't hold grudges. The good twin's resting mental state is happy. It is a glorious thing, and it makes us feel like amazing parents.

Dulce, trying to be sad, but cracking up.

The "bad" twin will find reasons to cry. If she cannot find a reason, she will make one up. She will ask you questions with the sole purpose of getting to the point where she breaks down into a tantrum. Everything needs to be just so for the bad twin to keep her perilous grip on calm. A wrinkle in a bed sheet can send her over the edge. She makes up demands upon demands every moment and if each is not given instantaneously, she will dissolve into a fury of tears. She remembers all past transgressions and bases her actions on previous shortcomings of the adults in her life. She works on a system of passive resistance. The bad twin's resting mental state is disgruntled. It is a maddening thing, and it makes us feel like horrible parents.

When the girls were younger, these polar phases lasted just hours, maybe a day or two. We used to joke that the 'spirit' moved between them. As they age, these phases are lasting longer and longer. We had all but given up hope on Natalina ever coming around again.

The switch is quick. It takes a day, at most three days before the dust settles. Dulce has had the 'spirit' now for going on two months, and my husband and I are still surprised by her behavior, so used to her happy self we had become.

Had we just had a single child, we'd think these were just typical phases. But the timing, the fact that they are always alternating, it throws us for a loop. We're constantly checking and rechecking our behavior, making sure we react consistently to the twins, regardless of who is acting like what at the time. We don't want them to assume we favor one over the other. And everything is a competitive checklist with them. Who got her face washed first? Who got dressed first? Who went potty first? It's an endless list of achievements and failures. We must be very careful.

Nataline, happy

And the change has nothing to do with us, so far as we can tell. We do the same things, they react differently. It's a pit of snakes, this parenting business.

We wonder in this endless spinning of personality, where the needle will finally stop. It's up to us to make it stop on happy. But how?

The Day Between Sickness and Wellness

We've been sick here. Very sick. Having lived in a germ-free bubble for the most of the last year means that one of the twins invariably picks up a virus or two whenever we come into contact with the outside world.

This time I'm sure the culprit was water day held at the preschool's summer camp. What started like this:

Ended like this:

And this was only the first day. Back when it was still cute, and no one was losing their minds.

Today, we're perched on that precarious ledge between sickness and wellness. Yesterday, the babies were in great spirits, happy to be feeling even a little better and thankful for the reprieve. Today, they're already taking it for granted, plus they have cabin fever (as do I) and yet we're all too sick to venture out into the world again quite yet.

They have slightly more energy, but they still feel awful, and they blame me (of course). So that if they didn't see me cut the orange, then it's not the orange they want. If it's not the toast I buttered five minutes ago that's been eaten, but instead some shady replacement toast (of exactly the same caliber, in the real world that isn't a twisted toddler mind), the world has ended and the only appropriate response is to scream and yell and cry and carry on.

It's devolved to this:

It's cuter without the sound, trust me. So, it's going to be a great day. Just well enough to cause a stink and demand the impossible, not well enough to actually have the energy to play or do anything fun.

I pretty much feel like this:

But as captain of this sinking ship, I'm doing my darndest to keep it together.

Wish me luck.


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