Confessions of a Shameless Parent

I've been giving a lot of thought to my kids lately, and how proud I am of each of them as they've grown up to become pretty awesome (and still very individual) adults.

Fortunately, I've always liked my kids. I enjoyed them as babies; I found much to adore as they grew up into cute children; I laughed with them and occasionally behind their backs at their foibles during adolescence; and I have found it truly rewarding to get to know them--and their friends--as teenagers and young adults. Sure, there were days when I wasn't as fond of them as others. Kids are a challenge, even on the best days. But overall, I think they are pretty darned cool people.

I have joked often about each of them being square pegs in the round hole that is "The Center of the Universe" and the corresponding high school. And I'm actually kind of proud of them for that, too. They weren't the football stars or the Citizens of the Month or the cheerleaders (OK, one daughter was a cheerleader for a brief moment, but then she thought better of it). Another daughter could have probably been the valedictorian, or at the very least in the top percentile of her class, but she consciously chose not to be known as "The Smart One." My sons chose to be class clowns, which won them no brownie points with the powers that be. But they survived that and maybe it made them stronger people.

They all had plenty of friends, but they didn't do the popular-kid stuff; consequently, they were never chosen for Homecoming Court or to receive the fancy scholarships or any other kind of special recognition. And, it seems, they are just fine with that. They all seem fairly satisfied with their degrees of success in real life. And I'm pretty satisfied with it, too.

Recently, I have served on two local scholarship selection committees. Not only have I had to read endless self-written essays, letters of recommendation and lists extolling the virtues of these overall round pegs, but I've listened to fellow committee members talk about their own kids' successes in school, in sports, and in life. All of the students have good reason to be proud of their accomplishments. Likewise, I would never dream of begrudging any other parent their mom- (or dad)-brags. But I've got to say that sometimes their litanies of how wonderful their sons and daughters are, and what incredible careers they have, and the houses they built, etc., etc., etc., can make me think their underlying message is that my kids really suck at life.

You see, none of my kids have high-profile careers or stock options. They don't have aspirations to high society. They don't have sixteen college degrees. They work normal, every-day Joe jobs (no name tags or hairnets required). They all have an excellent work ethic. They are responsible and mature. They are good parents, aunts and uncles. They visit their grandma. They go on trips to rather mundane places for unusual reasons. And they are worthy of some Mom-brags. Sure, some of them have screwed up in the past--nothing big time, just things they probably wouldn't do today or at least wouldn't have gotten caught up in, if they'd given it a little extra thought at the time. Or at the very least, they've done some rather unconventional things that probably made my friends and relatives question my competence as a parent. I don't care.

Ultimately, out of all of their hardships and screw ups and interesting past lives, they have become really great people. And I'm going to tell you something--I don't take credit for any of it. Not the screw ups, and not the good stuff, either. What I'm proudest of is that they are kind, caring, compassionate, thoughtful adults, who will make a difference in the world by their attitudes and example. And they have come to that all by themselves. Of course I would like to say that David and I have influenced them somewhat--and I hope that we have! But we know that their successes are their own. They don't belong to us.

Kahlil Gibran said a long time ago, "Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself. They come through you but not from you ... You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts ... You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth."

Those words, originally written in 1923, became popular again in the 1970s. So yep, I was there. I read them back then and I took them to heart as I learned those lessons at my own children's behest (especially the part about "their own thoughts"). And I just hope I can still remember them when I'm old.

I'm not above telling people about what my kids are doing, because I enjoy talking about them. But I'm starting to understand why my mother always just sat quietly as other people bragged endlessly about their children. I would always ask her, "Mom, why didn't you tell them I am the Secretary of the National Honor Society? Why didn't you tell them Craig is first chair in percussion and Keith is first-chair trombone? Why didn't you tell them where we are going to college? Why didn't you tell them about your grandchildren?" From mom, I've learned that sometimes, what's not said is just as important as what is.

I can be quietly proud of my daughters and my sons (and here's a shout out to my son-in-law and my future daughter-in-law, of whom I'm equally proud) for just who they are. And it really doesn't matter to me who else thinks they are great, because I already know that they are.