Same Face, New Priorities: My Promotion to Twin Mom

Life changes when you have kids. But when you have identical twins? There’s no manual for that.

Click here to hear the song

Life changes when you have kids. But when you have identical twins? There’s no manual for that.

Two brown-eyed boys. Two mirrored faces. Two walking “copy + paste” files — except one likes ketchup on everything and the other swears ketchup is the enemy. People still stop us mid-travel, unsure if they’re seeing double or just sleep-deprived. Meanwhile, my boys are in their own magical world, singing, arguing about Pokémon, and plotting how to sneak gummy worms when I’m not looking.

Our house has its own soundtrack now. The boys belt out a song called “Two of Me, Two of You.”  It’s theirs — all heart, slightly off-key, but sung with total confidence anywhere and everywhere.

“Two of me, two of you,

Not the same, but something true.

A mirrored face, a different mind,

Yet one soul that’s intertwined.”

It’s sweet. It’s chaotic. It’s us.

And watching them sing reminds me of something important: twins aren’t something most people see every day. For us, it’s daily life — but for others, it’s fascinating. And truthfully? It’s fascinating for me too. Because raising twins means learning, constantly. They teach me about myself, about patience, about how two people who look identical can still see the world in completely different ways.

That’s where the Moms of Multiples Society comes in. It’s the kind of club where no one bats an eye when you show up with a stroller the size of a compact car. Where joint birthday parties with 20 sets of twins are considered “a quiet afternoon.” Where you learn to ask the important questions, like: Is this frosting washable? Are these egg-free? And how do you catch a slippery, icing-covered baby before they take out the cake table?

At one of those birthday parties, my boys stood up and sang their song. Loud. Proud. Everyone stopped. Then clapped. And for a moment, it wasn’t just cute — it was magic.

And here’s what I’ve realized: being a Twin Mom doesn’t pull me away from leadership, it fuels it. Negotiating over bedtime is surprisingly great training for negotiating with executives. Coaching two kids who share a face but not a personality reminds me that every person brings something unique. Parenting has taught me to see beyond titles and deadlines — to see the human first.

Because in the end, the biggest promotion isn’t just at home. It’s the way being a Twin Mom has made me a better leader — more empathetic, more creative, and far more resilient.

So if you ever see me at an airport juggling two passports, two snack bags, and two kids loudly singing “Two of Me, Two of You”? Don’t feel sorry for me. Smile. Because this is my kind of leadership training — and it’s the best role I’ve ever had.