The Invisible Woman

One thing about having twins is that they don't really need you, at least not for social interaction. When they were old enough to play together, I saw it as a blessing. My kids could entertain themselves for hours on end.

When I'm telling them something important, though, this becomes a problem. Because, for some reason, the frequency of my voice is out of their range. They simply don't hear me when I'm talking. And they don't seem to see me either. It's as if I'm one of those people that didn't fully materialize when I went through the transporter and now I'm walking around nearly invisible.

Yesterday was one of those days. I got tired of being invisible. I cried. I made my children cry. And as I plowed through all the ways they had hurt my feelings, I heard my mother's voice coming out of my mouth. They must have been words she spoke 25 years ago that have been floating through the air waiting to be picked up. And just yesterday, I tuned in to the right frequency.

So, maybe it's not just twins. Maybe it's hereditary. Anyway, Mom, I'm sorry for the times I acted like you weren't there. Or worse, for the times I assumed you were just there to do my laundry and make my lunch. I'm sorry for not hearing you when you tried to express how rudely we all treated you. We needed you. Still do. I just never realized how much you did when we weren't looking, how many towels got picked up off the grass, how many cookies were hot and waiting when we got home from school, how the refrigerator stayed full even with 3 ravenous teenagers doing their best to empty it out.

Thanks, Mom. You're coming in loud and clear.