I have two kids, one girl and one boy. It probably goes without saying that I think they are both quite amazing, each in their own way. And they are both growing up much more quickly than I'd prefer.
It's funny, in a way, that our kids never really understand how much we love them until they have kids of their own. I mean, you think you get it. You think you're ready to become a parent. And then this tiny being is completely dependent upon you. And then, ever so slowly and yet seemingly all at once, that tiny baby is nearly grown, looking dead even into your own eyes. Or worse, rolling her eyes and thinking, Mom just doesn't get it at all. And you aren't so old that you don't remember feeling the same way (even if you were too chicken to roll your eyes at your own mother).
My mom told me that I would someday love my children more than my husband. I don't think that's true (sorry, Mom). I think there are just a lot of different kinds of love, and the love for my children is different than the love for my husband. My love for each of them is even different, but that doesn't make one any more or less than the other. My love for my children is much more protective, one that I would gladly give my own life for. I'd expect Darrell to do the same for each of them, but I'm not as sure that I would step in front of a bullet for him the way I know without a doubt I would do for either of my children. At the same time, my love for Darrell is more dependent, more a strength I lean upon. I am his partner in this life. As long as God lets us live on this earth, I'll be there for him and he'll be there for me long after our kids have gone their own ways.
My kids are very different. I'm happy that I have one girl and one boy, as it makes it much easier to not expect them to be the same. And I was one of those people that thought society made boys and girls different, but I'm hear to tell you, they are different from the very beginning. They are five and a half years apart in age. They aren't all that close to each other, although I pray that they grow closer in adulthood. They have separate interests, and separate friends. My daughter, as the older one, sees herself as an authority over little brother, and often echoes my orders and corrections to him.
They were born in two separate millennia. Our daughter began childhood with VHS tapes, Blue's Clues, and little interest in the one desktop computer in our home at the time. Our son began childhood with DVDs and moved quickly to streaming his favorite shows from Netflix or the Internet, Little Einsteins, and a love affair with all things computer and digital almost from the time he could walk and talk. The world had already changed a lot in those five and a half years.
Our daughter learned to count to 18 by 18 months old, tie her shoes and braid her own hair at three, and read and start Kindergarten at four, and has the most beautiful handwriting I've seen. Our son learned to walk by 10 months, still walks around with at least one shoe untied most of the time, only agreed to learn to read so that he could get his driver's license someday, and sometimes misses words on spelling tests because the teacher can't decipher the letters. And yet, I strongly suspect that he is just as intelligent as big sis. When he describes the way something works, something he wants to invent, or how he understands multiplying by fractions or doing other math problems in his head, I can't even follow it.
Our daughter spent several years that she remembers as the only child. She has a strong sense of self and what she wants from this life. She is independent, not afraid to ask questions and challenge other's thoughts and actions, and she is beautiful. Our son is cuddly, very sensitive, and extremely empathetic, although part of me wonders if that is partly to get comfort and good things in his life. He's been a charmer all along. He's the one who has so easily made me sympathetic of the younger sibling (and made me feel sorry for how I sometimes treated my own little sister). He's my cute little blondie, my proof that I have some natural blond hair in there somewhere.
I'm not much of a baby person, never really comfortable with any babies other than my own two when they were small. But I do get a little nostalgic when I see newborns. I didn't have tiny babies, surely my own genetic fault since Darrell was born under six pounds while I was a nine-pound giant. Hunter gained two pounds over birth weight by her two week check up and was sixteen pounds by three months old. Will weighed a little more at birth, but mostly because he was so tall, even then. When little, they were each always mistaken for older kids. A cousin accused Will of lying about his age, and wouldn't even believe me.
I always feel blessed to be their mom. It's the one thing I've always been sure of. The one thing that devastated me most when Darrell was sick (after worrying about him staying alive) was the possibility that we might not be able to have kids. When asked in various job interviews what my greatest accomplishment is, I unhesitatingly say my kids. I know that's not what they are looking for, but it will always be my honest answer. Have they each done things that disappoint me, and will they in the future? Yes, and I'm sure. But they have done so many other things that have made tears come to my eyes in pride. Each have gotten compliments from teachers, friends, etc. Each has worked hard for something she or he wanted, and amazed me in the doing of it.
And if all I teach each of them is to love God, be honest, and work hard, I will consider them my greatest blessing, and motherhood the hardest job I ever truly loved.
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