I Can't Tell My Own Identical Twins Apart

No, computer, that's Owen making his signature fart noise face. 

When I was pregnant with the boys, I remember fantasying about having twins on a car ride with Rob. At the time, I hadn't even gone to the doctor yet, but it was always something I thought about in the early weeks of pregnancy. I told Rob identical twins were so weird, like why does it even happen? And if I were to ever have twins, I would want them to be fraternal. I told him I would be the worst person ever to have identical twins because I have the hardest time with faces. I often question whether I have a slight case of facial amnesia. You know that phrase: I can't remember a name, but I'll remember a face? I can't remember either. 

I feared if I had identical twins, I wouldn't be able to recognize my own kids. Instead of listening to what they were saying, I would be trying to figure out who I was talking to the whole time. When they boys came, of course, I recognized the differences in them immediately. Owen's ears looked slightly different. Oscar's head was rounder. It was a huge relief.

Problem is, while I could recognize them as babies, now I look back at pictures and can't tell who's who. I feel awful. With a few exceptions, they all look like Oscar to me. Round head after round head after perfectly round Charlie Brown head. I never labeled the photos because it was so obvious at the time. Big mistake.

I'm banking on the fact that they get a kick out tricking people of their identity. I hope they find it just a humorous when I explain to them that their own mom doesn't have the foggiest who they are in baby pictures. I suspect they were splitting into two at that very moment I said the fateful words "identical twins are weird." Just in spite of me. Those boys are always finding ways to drive me crazy. Love them anyway. 

Here's my collection of pictures of Oscar and Owen. I mean Owen and Oscar. Either way, they are both somewhat represented in these pictures. 

These pictures are too good to be bothered with the details of identity.

Also the last and only time I dressed them the same. 

Not me. A model mom and dad for a catalog shoot.
I wonder if model mommy and daddy label their fake twins pictures for future reference? Probably.

Who's going to claim those lashes? Beats me.

I made this picture as a challenge for relatives and friends. I have to dig up the results in an old email because I stumped myself.

A million mystery pictures after the jump . . .

In Search of the Great Pumpkin (and it's not even October yet)

Elaborate pumpkin patches drive me bonkers. Hay rides! Mazes! Games! Long lines! Petting zoos. Such a production over pumpkins. I get it. The farmers are making extra cash by adding a few perks. Can't fault anyone for that. And plus my kids love it. I just want to tone it down a bit. Get back to nature. Hippie shit. So last weekend when we stayed in a small town called Rhinebeck, I was delighted to discover a pumpkin patch without all the gimmicks, like the one straight out of It's the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.

Wonderland Farm has 30 acres of pumpkins ready to discover and bring home. The entrance has pumpkins for costumers to buy or they can roam the land and pick the pumpkins straight off the vine. Were some of the pumpkins rotting and filled with flies? Yes. Many actually. But that's all part of it. The patch wasn't all groomed and pristine. It was an adventure.

Since we basically had the field to ourselves, we could take our time picking out our favorites. Our only competition was another couple and their dog. And they were good. I saw the ones they were picking--warty ones, white ones, tall skinny ones, and classic round ones. They already had two wagons filled with amazing unique pumpkins and they weren't done yet. I imagined they were the owners of a 19th century bed and breakfast and were picking pumpkins to delight all their guests. I could see all their pumpkins pouring down the steps and into the lawn for the next two months. A gorgeous fall display for all to enjoy.

I paid them no mind until I saw Oscar standing guard over his newly discovered pumpkin. After searching almost the entire field, he knew this was a pumpkin worth protecting. It wasn't going to be snatch up by anyone. Not me, not Owen, and certainly not our fierce competitors over 2 acres away. The pumpkin was bright orange, had a nice thick stem, and perfectly round. One of the best I've ever seen.

"You've done good," I told him, "But there's more to see!"

We all continued to look for more and walked away, but Oscar stood still. First looking at us, then his pumpkin and then the couple who was now over 3 acres away. Back and forth. Until he finally yelled out, "Help guys! I really found the perfect pumpkin. This is it. I need to bring it to the wagon."

We were all too invested in our search to stop and help him. He continued to wait for someone to help. One foot on the pumpkin as if it was Plymouth Rock itself. Then sitting on the pumpkin like a chair. Eventually he plucked that pumpkin right off the vine and started to roll it to the wagon. Except it wasn't rolling straight and it started to get away from him.

I heard him yell, "Dad! Help! Pleeease!"

Rob ran over and helped him take it over to our wagon to be claimed as ours--forever. The end of country life for this pumpkin started right then. No more sunshine or deers or dirt or bugs or even germs thanks to the bottle of Purell Oscar poured all over it as soon as we got home. Now that it's under the care of Oscar and experiencing posh city life, it's never had it so good.

I didn't quite see it at the patch, but it is a remarkable pumpkin. It's currently sitting in the middle of my living room next to the other pumpkins we bought. Oscar's is the biggest one by far and stands out among the rest. He had reason to protect it from those ruthless bed and breakfast owners. They overlooked one of the best pumpkins in the field. And while it didn't have warts or an odd shape, it's a classic. Like out of a drawing. Or a children's book. It surely is the great pumpkin, Oscar Bees.  

presenting oscar's pumpkin--center. 

here's oscar attempting to bring his perfect pumpkin all the way to the wagon

oscar and ella are not amused. 

Keep reading to see more pictures from our pumpkin patch adventure . . .

My Parents Are in Town: Mealtime Strategies

Minutes after my parents arrived, Oscar put them through a small experiment. He was sitting on his bed and announced randomly, "McDonald's is not healthy for you."

Grandma and Grandpa shrugged and didn't give much of a reaction.  That's all the data he needed. Hours later I overheard Oscar whispering to Grandpa, "Could you take us to McDonald's?"

It was a brilliant strategy. 

I hate myself for turning into an uptight parent who doesn't take their kids to McDonald's. It's because there's always another fresher or locally owned option next store. It takes zero effort on my part.  The movie Food Inc. is also to blame for turning me into an overly opinionated twit.  That movie had the biggest anti-McDonald's agenda, and I totally fell for it.  I haven't taken my kids to McDonald's in years. 

Oscar has been apparently searching for a way to get himself back to the golden arches and found his way with the grandparents.

I quickly realized that we had to take Oscar to McDonald's fast or else the entire trip would be consumed with, "Yeah Top of the Rock is cool-- but when are we going to McDonald's? Awesome, the Statue of Liberty! Is it lunch time yet? I really want to go to McDonald's, Grandpa! Having a great time on the boat! But let's go to McDonald's soon I'm so hungry. Ok, grandma?!"

We went yesterday to shut him up. Oscar ordered a Hamburger Happy Meal and a chocolate dipped ice cream cone. He savored each bite and hasn't stopped playing with the free toy since.  

For me, going there only crushed my dreams of taking down the man. The place was packed with a wide range of costumers, from perfectly dressed business people to families to blue collar workers. We had to go all the way to the third floor to find a table. McDonald's has obviously been thriving without my dollar.  The screen shot below of McDonald's stock value cracks me up. I don't know what it means exactly, but I can take a good guess.

Regardless, I'll never going back. If nothing else, I'm healthier for it. Plus, I haven't let go of my absurd dream that somehow I am making a difference by voting with my dollar. It's the optimist in me.

Is it also the optimist in me that thought my southern McChicken sandwich and fries tasted delicious? I hope not.

Stoked!!!!

I used to take my babies to McDonald's alllll the time.  For a while it was at least once a week, maybe twice. Proof after the jump. No wonder Oscar misses it!

Play Dates Reconsidered: Twins Need Them TOO!

After over 3 years of eating, sleeping, and playing together, my twin boys entered separate Pre-K classes. Six hours a day, five days a week. Just like that, they were on their own. I never heard them complain about missing each other.  Everyday for months, they walked into their separate classes without a fuss.  After school, they chatted about their day and the different things they did.  I assumed that everything was going smoothly. That is, until parent teacher conference last week.

Without knowing it, both teachers expressed their concerns about my boys social interaction with the kids in the class. Owen's teacher described him as shy at times. For example, when a kid says to Owen, "You can't play with us!", he accepts the order and plays alone, instead of sticking up for himself and saying, "Yes I can!". When Oscar's teacher asks everyone to find a partner, he doesn't know who to choose. It broke my heart when Oscar's teacher told me he usually gets the "left over kids". So sad! To think that the term "left over" could be applied to kids! But I understand her point. He's never really needed to seek out a partner. He always had his brother.

Here's the kicker. Oscar's teacher asked me, "Has Oscar ever had a play date with someone in the class?" Nope! Not one. Sure, he runs around the playground after school with his classmates, but he's never actually had an official play date. His teacher suggested he should start having play dates with classmates to form solid friendships outside of the school setting. This will translate to stronger friendships in the school. Ohhh. So play dates aren't some awful invention made up by modern moms to make life more difficult? They actually have a real purpose? I must have missed that.

After skimming over articles about twins, I realized it's really common for parents, like me, to assume that their twins don't need play dates. Why should they? They have a built-in best friend. But that's actually not true. They have a built-in brother. A friend is something entirely different.

Perhaps the same could be said for siblings close in age?

So yesterday, Oscar had his first play date with his classmate Jared. Alone! He was so excited.  They played in the park, got flavored ice, and went back to Jared's penthouse (oh la la) to play with toys. I picked him up at 4:30. In the mean time, I relished my time with only two kids.

This morning when I dropped off Oscar at his classroom, Jared let out a huge, "OSCAR! Hi!"  That's never happened before. I guess play dates work. Lesson learned. Owen's next!

Underline Coffee Made It All Better

So we're down in Chelsea and we all hate each other. I brought the kids here to check out a gallery that looked cool. I've never done a Chelsea gallery walk thing before, but I thought why not try it with a few cranking kids carrying heavy backpacks? The one I wanted to see needed reservations, which we had for 4:30pm. We arrived 15 minutes early. In the wait time my kids proceeded to have fist fights in the lobby. I start to wonder if instead we are actually 10 years too early? I knew this wasn't going to work, but I held out until 4:30 just in case. No. To the delight of the gallery girls, I gave up and walked out of the building. They didn't try to convince my family to stay.

Here we are on 20th Ave. and Ella is sprinting away because she doesn't want to be with us. Owen and Oscar are yelling at each other. I'm feeling defeated and stupid for thinking they could handle this activity.

As we proceed down the street, I see a small coffee shop called Underline Coffee that looked cool. And because that worked really well for us the last time I saw something cool, I brought the kids in to check it out.

The first thing I barked to the guy behind the counter was, "You guys accept credit card?" I still wasn't over my bad mood.

And with the biggest smile ever he responded, "Yep!"

The way he said it was so welcoming. It was like how my cousin greets my family at a family reunion. He even looked similar to him. It was time to make one thing clear to this guy so I told him straight up, "I'm the worst mood right now."

It felt good to get that out of the way. Now I could order the 3 hot chocolates for the kids, a few yogurts, and ask him for a recommendation.

And still with that bright smile of his, he says, "A classic cappuccino." Still smiling. And still smiling.

He must not be from around here, I thought. I've learned costumer service in the city is not what it is everywhere else. NYorkers tend to have a direct, almost abrasive interaction with costumers at first. The rule is that no matter how snotty they are, I must not sass back. It's hard not to mimic their behavior, but it's just the wall I have to break down before they give me a chance. This cafe guy didn't have the wall. He was just nice from the start. So much easier to deal with.

My kids could sense it too and wouldn't leave him alone as he made our drinks. Once they got their hot chocolate, they talked with him for a good half hour. I was in no mood for chit chat, so I sat as far away as I could from my kids. I couldn't help but listen their conversation. My boys were practically grilling him over his life details. They needed answers like Miles needed answers from Uncle Buck.

I overheard him say his name's Brandon. The coffee shop is only 2 weeks old. He moved here 6 months ago from Maryland to help get it ready. He now lives in New Jersey. He used to work at Dominos, then Starbucks, now here. Oscar wanted to know if he got fired from Starbucks. He did not. He quit.

"You said, 'I quit.' to your boss?" Asked Oscar, as if it's a bad word.

And again, with with a large grin, Brandon said, "Yes, I said, 'I quit!'"

Oscar responded, "You're smiling so I know your lying."

This made him laugh, so he gave a serious face and said, "I said, 'I quit.'"

Oscar responded, "You're still smiling."

And finally the mood in me switched. And I realized this time, I was that direct, almost abrasive NYorker I loathed in stores. My kids and I eventually left the shop and walked the Highline then had dinner in Chelsea Market. While the night wasn't a perfect after our stop to Underline Coffee, I can definitely say it changed the mood of the evening. It's all due to Brandon not mimicking my behavior. He may have moved here only 6 months ago, but he's learning fast how to deal with us grumps.

Remembering the Students of Sandy Hook Elementary School

I can't stop thinking about the parents of Sandy Hook Elementary School, especially the ones who dropped their kids off and said goodbye for the last time. For the most part, school mornings aren't easy or smooth. It's stressful to serve breakfast and find matching socks and get everyone out the door. Everything feels rushed. By this time of the school year, parents have learned the absolute last minute they can leave the house before they are late. They learn exactly what to serve for breakfast, sometimes resorting to a plastic baggie of cheerios to eat along the way. It's no longer new and memorable, like it was the first day of school. By now, the morning rush might even seem routine. 

But today, this morning turned out to be anything but routine for the parents of Sandy Hook who lost a child to a reckless gunman. They will never forget the boring details of their last moments with their kids. Now these details seem more precious than ever. My thoughts and love go out to the families dealing with so much loss right now. I'm searching for ways to help. To honor the kids who won't have a chance to experience a crazy school day morning again, I'm including the mundane details of our Friday morning . . . 

Giveaway: Keith Pitts Photography

Last Friday, I introduced you to Keith Pitts and wrote about my experience as he took amazing photos of my kids in our apartment. Today, I'll show you the photos he took of our neighborhood and I've got great news:

Keith Pitts is giving away one family portrait session, a custom slideshow, an online gallery of up to 30 images hosted for 3 months, and 10 hi-res digital files! 

Total Giveaway Value: $3250!!

The only caveat is that the winner needs to be able to travel to one of his upcoming travel locations or be available to come to Phoenix at any time.

Keith Pitts Summer 2012 Travel Dates:

San Francisco, CA 

June 9 & 10

Laguna Beach, CA

June 23 & 24th

Paris, France

July 2012

San Diego

August 18 & 19

New York City

September 13 & 14

To enter, leave a comment on this post!
If you don't have a profile, please write your email in your comment so I can contact you :)

Winner will be drawn at random next Monday, June 4th. 

Good luck! 

More pictures after the jump, including our favorite climbing tree and the only melt down of the shoot. Can you guess who it was? It was short lived thank goodness! Read more about my experience too. :)

Improv Everywhere video has been posted!

It's up! Oscar didn't make the cut (see why below), but Owen shows up 1.4 minutes into the clip. But wait! I'm in there too. Look behind the trumpet player on his last notes. I'm sitting at the table behind his left arm. A dot really. But it's me!

Here's the insiders scoop on how they made the skit:

1. There was three groups of kids. Owen and Oscar were in the first group. We all waited outside the NYC library so the kids couldn't see all the cameras/actors. The kids had no idea what was about to happen when we walked up to the carousel. I was sworn to secrecy. On my life. Or something similar in legal terms.

2. They rode the carousel and looked confused. Oscar to this day thinks that if he goes back to Bryant Park, it will have the same racing day excitement. I'll have to prepare him for a huge let down.

3. After the ride was over, we had some sandwiches at 'wichcraft and played in the fountain.

4. We walked back to watch the last round. I knew it was going to be the one they kept. It was the third time the comedians had practiced and the skit ran really smooth. And that kid who won was really cute.

Look! He was riding the winning animal! But unfortunately, they didn't pick the bunny to win during his round. Boo. That's why he wasn't in the video. It wouldn't have made sense.   

 If you scroll all the way down Improv Everywhere's website, you can see Owen holding a trophy in the air with pride. And good 'ol Oscar made into into the Flickr stream.

It was fun. Thanks Michelle for the heads up!

Easter Weekend 2013: Obligatory Family Picture

As soon as I saw this picture I thought:

1. omg I look just look like my dad.

2. I love my family. I really do. But this could be the worst worst family picture ever.

3. I need bangs. Oscar style. He's always had great hair. 

4.  Sunglasses. asap.
After the jump, some of the best of my Instagrams so far this year.
Follow me @sharonbeesley for shits and giggles.

Lombardi's

Here's a bunch of pictures starring Owen and a Lombardi's pizza. Lombardi's is known as the birth place of NY Style Pizza. Ah, yes, another assortment of pictures I post on my blog to give the illusion of bliss and beauty. Enjoy!

Congratulations for strolling this far down!  Now for your reward, a dose of reality: After we ate our pizza, we took the kids to a nearby playground, and Oscar crapped his pants. Rob cleaned it up in a Port-a-Potty. Luckily, Oscar's jeans were sparred. We carried on. 15 minutes later, while waiting in the subway station, Oscar started to complain about a stomachache. And that was that. The $30 dollar cab ride home was totally worth it. Stinky, but worth it. We couldn't stop laughing! The poor kid.

Hiho Batik: Handmade Art

My boys and I recently had the chance to check out Hiho Batik, a relatively new art space-cum-boutique in Park Slope, Brooklyn. I loved the store--the calm vibe, the design, and (on a practical side) the fit of the shirts. You know how t-shirts can sometimes be too wide or too short? Their shirts are just right and so soft. But that's not even the coolest part! We soon met Robyn Stylman and her business partner Julia Gordon and learned about the art space in the back of the store. That's where costumers can create their own personalized batik shirts, bags, bibs, aprons, even pillows!

Gordon has been practicing the art of batik for more than 18 years in Boulder and Miami. I was unfamiliar with this popular Indonesian fabric design, so Gordon explained, “The process of batik involves outlining a design on a shirt using hot wax, painting the design with dyes, waxing over the design to keep the colors in place, and finally dying the final piece of cloth. The wax simply gets washed out in the process and you are left with a one-of-a-kind piece of art.”

I couldn't wait to test it out, but that nervous feeling I get when I'm doing something new crept up on me. However, the owners and employees were so calm as they walked me and the boys through the process that I really enjoyed myself. I kept repeating the montra they have written cheerfully on the chalkboard in the back room, "There are no mistakes in art." This especially applies to batik. It's ok if the end result is a little messy. It actually looks better!

Here's some pictures of Oscar's experience. After the jump is Owen's (aka the artist) experience. I highly recommend Hiho Batik. You can walk-in or reserve the space for any occasion. I can't wait to go back and pick up our shirts. Read more details about my exsperience in an article I did for Elizabeth Street here.

That's Julia Gordon helping Oscar with his design. Plus, a mug full of permanent markers!!  

goofy face. he's stoked. i want that dog.

This is Oscar pouring the hot wax onto the shirt. Super hot but super safe thanks to Julia keeping a watchful eye. 

I couldn't tell if my boys were more thrilled to paint or wear rubber gloves.

Here's an example of a finished product. Buy this Dino Bones shirt here. Comes in adult size, too ha ;)

  Owen's turn after the jump . . .

Kids Choices in Clothing

One of my first memories is from pre-kindergarden. I remember looking down at my jean skirt and thinking to myself: I look so awesome today! I love everything about my outfit! And then my eyes lowered to my shoes. Well, except for my shoes. I was wearing an old pair of tennis shoes that I thought looked too babyish for my four-year-old self. I never said anything to my mom until ten years later. When I finally did, she laughed and said, "Oh my gosh! I would have bought you new shoes if I knew you hated them so much!"

My next fashion memory is when I was a little older and I was walking around my elementary school with layered slouch socks. I thought it was such an awesome concept. I planned on doing it for the rest of my life because I couldn't think of a better way to wear socks. That was it for me.

It's interesting to watch my kids slowly start to be aware of fashion and trends at their school. Oscar found his piece right before Christmas. A few kids in his class have animal hats and he wanted to be just like them. I showed him these awesome and refined animal hats from RH Baby&Child, but he didn't want any part of it. His hat needed eyes, a nose, ears, and mittens, so I bought this giraffe hat right before Christmas. It's by far his favorite gift from Santa. He couldn't wait for the holiday break to be over so he could show his classmates the hat. I don't think they cared in the slightest, but I could tell it meant so much to Oscar. A few days later, we were all going around and saying our New Years Resolutions. Oscar said he wanted everyone in the world to own an animal hat. I completely get it. For him, he can't think of a better way to stay warm this winter. This hat is it for him.