 All the different personalities of children, coupled with all the
different parenting styles, leave us with too many combinations. To
make matters worse, most of us are convinced that only one of these
many combinations will do the trick: Turn that brand-new, wrinkly,
red-faced, drooling, crybaby into a contributing member of society.
For many years, we will vacillate from being pretty sure our
parenting skills are getting the job done, to knowing without a
doubt that our child will be a thumb-sucking, whiny, basket case who
will never learn math and whose sole purpose in life is to irritate
you.
From time to time, we might get some clues as to how we are
doing. Sometimes, the knowledge doesn’t come until they are fully
grown.
Our 24-year-old used to be a jokester, always clowning around. He
liked to be the center of attention. Now, I can honestly say that,
although he still retains his fun-loving side, he is the most
logical of my children, with the most common sense. He reminds me of
Abraham Lincoln. He sees both sides of an issue, and with animosity
toward none, chooses the one that makes the most sense. Where did
that come from?
Two years ago, when my then-wimpy, whiny 13-year-old boy,
announced that he wanted to take a martial arts class, I was
positive that this would be a short-lived, expensive proposition. He
said no, it wouldn’t. He said the same thing about Cub Scouts
(lasted one month), tennis (five months) and drum lessons (two
years). Nobody could have blamed me if I had said "no." It was his
reason that convinced me. He said, "I want to be a leader." This
boy, the one who, when stubbing a toe, acted like he’d been shot,
wanted to be a leader? Well, stranger things have happened, I
thought.
He worked harder than I’ve ever seen him work at anything, with
the exception of surfing YouTube, and now, at 15, he is a black belt
in tae kwon do, a leader and mentor to many other students. Go
figure!
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 My daughter is more subtle. I have always known that she was on
the right track.
For most of my life, I have scrupulously applied foundation,
blush and mascara with the hope of showing the world the best face I
could. I always told my daughter that I had to try a little harder
to look as lovely as she does. One day, out of the blue, on a day
when I wore no makeup at all, she looked at me and said, "Mommy,
you’re beautiful."
From my daughter I learned to be myself. She made me see that I
really didn’t have to try so hard to be someone else.
When my oldest son graduated from high school many years ago, he
was a sullen, argumentative, moody 18-year-old. Scholastically, he
was doing great. But life isn’t measured solely by scholastic
ability.
He thought the ideal life was a life of solitude. He just wanted
to be left alone. My heart cried for this man-child who didn’t fare
well in a house full of young children. He was an intellectual who
hated distractions, but I knew that a life of loneliness wasn’t the
answer. Not knowing how to get that message across, I made him a
framed copy of the words to the song "I Hope You Dance." A strange
graduation gift, some might say. I thought it might end up in a
trash bin.
Ten years later, he chose that song as the one he and I would
dance to on his wedding day. And yes, of course, I cried.
Maybe I did do some things right.
[By LAURA SNYDER]
Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated
columnist, author and speaker. You can reach her at
lsnyder@lauraonlife.com
or visit www.lauraonlife.com
for more info. |
