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Double Trouble

April 14, 2011

Surely by now you’ve seen this video? I love everything about it. How one baby is smiley and taking it all in, letting the other one talk his little heart out, animated and vocal. My twin sister and I are not identical, unlike what these adorable fellas appear to be. No, we’re fraternal, which, when broken down, means we’re no different technically than any other siblings. But we are, regardless of the countless studies saying the contrary. Separated by just eight minutes (the longest of my mom’s life, she says) we were born on our due date, which is overdue for twins. Apparently we liked each other from the get-go, no hurry to join the rest of the world, perfectly fine hanging out, just the two of us.

My mom snagged this photo of us in our matching, yet non-matching outfits, just before I hopped off the swing.

I’ve touched upon being a twin (here) but that piece was more about my marriage than my relationship with my sister. We’re more alike than people give us credit for. I think others want to compare twins and stick them in a box and give them set differences and all that is fine, but the one key difference with us, despite what people try to interject, is the speed in which we operate. We joke that I function as if I’ve just done a few lines of coke, her like she’s just digested a bag of mushrooms and is waiting for the pretty colors to change. Our swim coach growing up used to call us Double Trouble—she was just Trouble and I was More Trouble, and I think we lived a bit in those roles for a while. She was shy and I was outgoing, doing the talking for the both of us. She was careful in thinking, doing that for me, very cautious and meticulous in her process.

A covert operation for Fritos. Me taking off with the stash, her quietly covering our tracks.

My mom tells a fantastic story about us. I’ve always gone to bed early and gotten up early, even as a baby. My twin stayed up late and slept in (when did our poor mother sleep?). Well, one morning when we were babies, I crawled out of my crib and padded downstairs to find my mother in the kitchen. She asked me if my sister was up, and I said no. My mom started to feed me and about half and hour or so passed. With no noise from upstairs or anything, I declared, “She’s up.” We went upstairs, and sure enough, she was stirring in her crib. I apparently just knew and I’d do that often.

A typical day at the Hazels’ house–her painstakingly working knots out of Miss Piggy’s mane (that I probably put there), me waking Big Bird from his nap so we could have a conversation.

When this video appeared online, my twin was at a conference for a week in Tampa and I didn’t talk to her for almost an entire week. One of the longest stretches we’ve ever gone except for times one of us has been out of the country. It was awful and I felt off for days–sad, lonely, just bleh. She’s back, thank goodness, but it made me realize how special our relationship is, and one I wouldn’t trade for anything.

Also—I’m pretty sure the video ruckus is over the missing sock.

Playing in our dad’s amazing hat collection–an early lesson that sometimes life requires a helmet.