The "F" Word

Calm down, calm down. This post isn't laced with obscenities and full of adult content. Sorry to disappoint. It is, however, a discussion of one of my least favorite words in the English language: fair. As far as I'm concerned, it is THE "F" word at our house. Yes, yes, I know. We've got years to deal with the other "F" word. But for right now, the word "fair" is the bane of my existence. To say that my kids are into justice is a huge understatement. They fight over everything from who gets out of the car first to who gets the Rapunzel underwear. And God forbid there's only one of anything left in the pantry. That leads to those looks that say, "Why are you just standing there, woman? Haven't you gone to the grocery store yet?"
Earlier this year, I sent school supplies in the girls' backpacks. One child's sheet of stickers managed to slip out of her folder and was loose in her bag. When her teacher suggested that perhaps I'd only sent supplies with one of them, my child looked at her and declared loudly, "No. My mom wouldn't do that. It wouldn't be fair." I was secretly pleased she had noticed that I really do go out of my way to make sure no one child has the advantage. It's just really freakin' hard sometimes.
Being an only child, this whole "fair" thing was a foreign concept for me, but I am getting better at it, especially for someone who's making it up as I go along. Multiples come with their own special brand of mommy guilt. Speaking for myself, and several other twin moms I've talked to, upon changing one baby's diaper, I was immediately compelled to change the other one. If I held one child for a feeding, I had an unavoidable need to hold the other one for the next feeding. I guess it comes standard with a set of twins.
Maybe I created this "fair" monster. I am a lover of order and symmetry. I can't tell you how many house plans I looked at and turned down because the design wasn't symmetrical, which my husband thinks is totally nuts. I've always said that giving me twins was either God's way of compensating for my OCD or a really good joke. Want to see a baby puke? Dress her in the same outfit as her sister. It's better than Ipecac syrup. Works every time. 
My children really can smell injustice from a mile away. Or perceived injustice: sometimes it's actually something that's completely on the up and up masquerading as "unfair." This situation encompasses things such as, "I have two dresses in different sizes, but only one of them is pink. You have to wear the blue one, because the pink one is too small for you" or "Your shoes are pink and not blue like hers because out of the FIVE shoe stores I just went to, the only Twinkle Toes in your size were pink." While attending a Christmas party at my dad's house, my kids counted the presents under the tree and then asked if all the grandkids had the same number. To which the answer was "no." I had loads of fun trying to explain that one. Numbers are important when you're five.
Over the years, I have figured out that it doesn't really matter what the injustice is, big or small, it's always met with a loud, overly dramatic, soap opera actress worthy, "But that's not FAIR!" Yes, my little cherubs, I know. Life isn't fair. If it was fair, I could pee in privacy and our clothes would wash themselves. My husband's all time favorite response to the "F" word: "A fair is a place you go in the summertime." So clever, Daddy. And, no, they don't understand that one yet, either.
My dad's personal favorite was, "Life's full of little disappointments." I totally agree, but it's worth pointing out that when you are little, all the disappointments seem really big. A classic example: this morning at their school, awards were handed out in each class to the "Student of the Month." My children worked hard and did well in school; they hadn't had any behavior problems this year. I felt sure that at least one of them would be chosen. When they weren't, I sure wanted to know exactly what it was they had to do to earn that distinction. Hey, I play for blood, but I have to know what the rules are first. I would be a terrible soccer mom. I freely admit that.
After the program, I hadn't taken a step inside the door of their classroom when their teacher pulled me aside and explained that she had submitted both their names for Student of the Month in May, the last month of school. The office then informed her that she could only choose one student, not two. She went on to say that she couldn't pick just one, because it wouldn't have been fair. Reflexively, I opened my mouth to say, "A fair is a place you go..." but then thought better of it. I bet she hears the "F" word more than I do, and that's saying something.
In her mind, it was better to disappoint both of them by not giving it to either of them. In my mind, each of my daughters were penalized for having a twin sister. While I understand what their teacher was saying, I wanted to point out that my children are not a set. They are individuals who happen to have the same birthday. They are each unique, wonderful people who aren't always going to excel at the same things. I can already tell you several things that one or the other of them are better at. (And they know what those things are and exploit them shamelessly.)
Ah, yes, the "F" word. School's out, and I get to hear it all summer long. Hooray! You gals out there with just one child, think carefully before you upset the apple cart, or you just might find yourself at the "fair." Just remember girls: Mom's fair, life isn't.