Be proud of your kids (01/26/2009)

I am pleasantly pleased by how well my daughter copes. She has a full-time job, a plethora of bills, a small feisty child and is pregnant. Just-turned-three-years-old Emma likes to "see the baby." She does this by pulling up her mamma's shirt and patting Beth's taut belly. It doesn't matter where they are when this urge hits Emma. She is as likely to expose her mom's bulging tummy in public as well as at home. Beth takes all this in stride, letting Emma "see the baby" as often as she likes.

Emma competes with her mother by insisting that she has not one, but two babies in her own tiny belly. At one point while we were playing in her back yard she heard a noise. Emma said, "What's that?" After looking all around the yard she pulled up her own shirt and declared, "Oh. It's the baby in my belly!"

I remember being tired while I was pregnant. I remember being faintly nauseated for months. I remember crying from sheer exhaustion. I remember the frustration I experienced when people wouldn't allow me to do things because I was carrying a child. I remember the joy I felt at being pregnant and the fear I felt at being faced with the care and feeding of a being that was totally dependent upon me. I remember feeling terribly inadequate after she was born because I couldn't figure out why she would cry for hours on end. I remember the warm feeling of a sleeping baby on my chest.

Watching my daughter take care of her daughter is amazing. I only wish I had been so confident and matter-of-fact when she was little. As a result of her care, Emma is a polite child who has a minimum of meltdowns. When Beth was that age it seemed like every time we went into a restaurant we spent most of the time in the bathroom. She would have a tantrum and I would take her to the bathroom to remove her from her audience. Once she had gotten it out of her system and was human again we would rejoin the rest of the family.

I didn't see this with Emma. Sure, there were times when she was tired and cranky, but it never escalated to the screaming I remember.

It seems like only yesterday that Beth was little. Now she is all grown up with a child of her own and another one on the way. She holds down a demanding job and works what I consider to be awful hours just to support them both. She is healthy and energetic. She is amazing.

I see this same pride in other people when they talk about their children and grandchildren. One of the ladies at work fairly beamed as she recently displayed a message on her cell phone of her granddaughter counting to ten all by herself. I have to admit, it was cute.

I see the same pride in all the shared pictures of children and grandchildren. I see the delight in people's eyes when one of their own does something spectacular or when they do something ordinary that reflects their unique personality. I see it when people order reprints of pictures that were in the newspaper. I see it when parents slip their arms around their children and the children hesitate before shrugging them off.

It is in our nature to take pride in one of our own. In the back of our minds we believe that how our children deal with life reflects on how well we raised them. We sometimes fail to give credit for how well they, themselves, react. Some people are just naturally happy while others are not. Some people seem to sail through life while for others every waking moment is a struggle.

Children come into this world with a set personality and we, the parents, are but a small part of what helps shape them into what they become. We can guide, prod and love them but ultimately they will be who they are destined to be. All children are precious but our own are more precious than anyone else's.

It is a true source of pleasure when our children turn out to be amazingly wonderful people. Then it is easy to be proud of them.

It is easy for me to be proud of my daughter. Is it easy for you to be proud of your children? I hope so.[[In-content Ad]]