“Mommy!  It’s our birthday today!  If we hurry, can we please walk through the field of mist?”  Taylor begged this morning.

“Ya, Momma!  We’ll hurry!!  Pleeeaaasssseeee???” Sydney supported her identical twin’s desperate plea for adventure on the way to school.

I chuckled.  “Yes.  But we can’t make your brother late.  So get a move on!” I commanded with a smile.

They jumped for joy and hugged each other before running off to get ready for their special day.


Ten years ago I gave birth to identical twins.

They seemed to come out of nowhere – like a mystical force that can neither be fully explained nor understood.  An existence so intense that their presence was automatically accepted as a gift.  A blessing.  A miracle.

This morning before the sun even had a chance to rise, I watched my twin daughters frolick with wonder through the fuzzy blanket of fog that always settles a mile from our house.  I couldn’t help but marvel at their spirit.

I was struck by the metaphor of the occasion.

A moment that embodied everything I love and admire about their relationship, as well as everything that makes them so difficult to parent at times.

When Sydney and Taylor are together, they share a combined spirit.  They are always eager to create, explore and discover the beauty this world has to offer.  They never tire of adventure.  Together they are secure, confident and courageous.  They charge forward as a team without inhibition or fear.  Theirs is a relationship of total awareness and complete acceptance, relieving them from insecurities that might otherwise hold them back from trying new things.  Together they are bold, brave, and beautiful.

Together they are free.

But the morning mist – as mesmerizing as it is – stifles freedom with unforeseen obstacles.  Fog is not conducive for planning ahead.  It strikes when you least expect, offering no choice but to adapt to its present conditions with flexibilty.  When traveling through unknown territory, it’s impossible to predict any future bumps in the road.  As a result, you must resign to a slow journey.  One that must be navigated with careful patience and faith.  This is frustrating when you’d rather achieve your destination quickly.

Parenting our identical twin daughters is a marathon race in the fog.

It’s encouraging them to pace themselves, when it feels most natural to sprint.  It’s veering off course to take advantage of teachable moments as we stumble upon them.  It’s showing them how to get back up and run every time life knocks them down.  It’s learning to support them with quiet, blind faith as they build their own strategic visions of the future.  It’s accepting that a great team is composed of  strong individuals with different strengths and weaknesses.

It is a sport that requires rigorous training, great strength and perseverance.  In the end, it will be a hard fought victory for us all.

And great cause to celebrate alongside our little twin party animals.