Friday, January 31, 2014


"I have to tell you something and it's about your daughters. And you can't say I told you."

My heart dropped into my stomach. They are, for the most part, good kids. What had they done?

Thankfully, she was quick to say, "The girls want to decorate Zoe's and Talia's lockers tomorrow and they are trying to figure out a way to do it. They want it to be a surprise."

My heart lugged itself back to its rightful place (within the mediastinum, in case you were wondering) and I laughed to myself. Yes, of course their friends want to decorate the twins' lockers. They are twelve today.


Let me say that again.


Twelve is the number of seconds that passed between the time I noticed Tim in the parking lot and the time I moved to go and say something to him.

Twelve is the number of minutes that he and I spoke before exchanging emails and saying so long, but not goodbye.

Twelve is the number of days it took me to realize that even though I hadn't missed a period yet, something different was going on with my body.

Twelve is the number of weeks around which the midwife said, "You're measuring a little high, but that could be any number of things." (Two things, to be exact.)

Twelve is the number of months it took for me to feel as though having twins hadn't completely slammed me into the wall and then some.

Twelve is the number of years I spent in the city where the girls were born.


Twelve is a year that I count as one of my most memorable, good and bad. Twelve is when I really discovered that liking a boy could cause butterflies to erupt in my stomach; the year that Super Mario Brothers was released for Nintendo and Goodwill Ambassador Samantha Smith perished in a plane crash. Twelve was when I saw my sister go to high school, leaving me alone, making me realize how much she meant to me; the year also involved the crash of the space shuttle Challenger, a noticeable earthquake in Michigan, and the demise of my favorite pair of pants due to muddy water.

Twelve is being on the edge of a new you, finding out what friends are really made of, seeing how your parents can turn crazy at the drop of a hat, and laughing hysterically when your little sister sings off-key.

Twelve is incredible and uplifting and wonderful and heartbreaking and daunting all in one. And I think (and hope) that Zoe and Talia are going to like Twelve.

Happy Birthday to my lovely ladies!

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