Night and Day. Salt and Pepper. Cream and Sugar.

Along with 50 percent of all babies born in the Great State of Alabama, my first words were “ma ma,” “da da,” and “War Eagle.” Daddy attended Auburn University, and he and Mama married while he was still a student. He dropped out when Mama got pregnant with Starla, and they moved home to manufacture church pews. Starla and Angie both graduated from Auburn. So, it made perfect sense when I finished my obligatory year in purgatory—I mean, at the local junior college—that I would choose to further my education at Samford.

I treasure the time I spent at Samford and have never regretted my decision, but I have always felt a little left out. I am an Auburn fan (Truth be told, I don’t care about the actual sporting event; I like the band and the cheerleaders and the traditions and the pretty colors; shhh!), but I am not part of the Auburn family. I can’t say, “All Auburn! All In!” My sister's three children are all Auburn grads, and all three of my children swore their allegiance early on. Also, when people ask you where you went to college, you have to say, “Samford University, in Birmingham” or they think your mama was a hippie and let you hightail it to California.

I graduated, got married, and gave birth to fraternal twins girls. I would have told you back then (before I had children and still knew all the child-rearing answers) that the differences in siblings were every bit birth order and how they were raised. That was before I had 2 babies of the same gender on the same day. 

Emma likes green; Abby likes blue.

Emma would rather wash the dishes; Abby would rather wash the cars.

Emma eats peanut butter AND jelly; Abby eats just peanut butter.

Emma made a friend at every McDonald’s Play Place we ever patronized; Abby thinks a few friends are a gracious plenty. (As Mary Poppins says, "Enough is as good as a feast.")

Emma crafts; Abby reads.

Emma likes The Princess Diaries; Abby likes The Princess Bride. 

My friend Jordan told me once, “Together, your daughters make a well-rounded young woman.”

This next week, for the first time since conception (after finishing their obligatory year in purgatory—I mean, at the local junior college), my baby girls are going their separate ways. Emma, following King tradition, will be rocking a cute orange sundress in the student section at Jordan-Hare; Abby, with a small legacy scholarship, will be banging on the bass drum in the Samford University marching band.

Their decisions fit them. They will be better sisters as adults for choosing these different paths, and I couldn’t be happier. Mainly for them, but a little bit for me. See, if you have twins, you can have your cake and eat it, too.

Go Bulldogs! And War Eagle!

Abby is the Green Lantern; Emma is the Pink Power Ranger.