I began the journey of understanding children twenty-five years ago when my identical twin sons were born. Those five-pound sacks of sugar filled our home and consumed my life in one glorious moment. Before their arrival our house was a comfortable, peaceful place for two adults working together to find their way through school, marriage, and life. After our children's birth our quiet home became a busy nursery. Two swings replaced an overstuffed chair in our tiny living room. Two, yes, two playpens lined the wall opposite the swings. Two high chairs filled the breakfast nook, leaving us just enough room to squeeze past the chairs on our way to the kitchen.

My daily ritual of rising early to see my husband off to work, dress, and then head out to conquer the world of interior design was radically changed. The cost of daycare for two trumped my salary. Our pocketbook and our hearts told us I needed to spend my days at home with our sons, a decision for which I have been forever grateful.

I traded in my business suits for jogging suits and replaced discussions of new sofas and fabrics with talk of potty training methods and changing "poopy" diapers. Despite the new challenges and odors, which could be downright disgusting, I loved being a mom. I found great dignity in changing those diapers. I now had a higher calling to give of myself in raising two little boys who would one day become men who would give of themselves to the world.

I was filled with more questions than I ever had in design school. Who could I turn to with answers to my parenting questions? My own mother, of course. She offered her experiential wisdom and then recommended I use my one-track mind to my advantage.

I set my one-track