During my time in Tanzania with Compassion International, I will would like to share some of my favorite posts from the past.
~Originally posted 11/11/10~
When I held my daughter in my arms six years ago, looking down at her, I imagined little fingers playing the piano, little feet dancing excitedly, a little voice singing to the rooftops with me at her side, singing and dancing and playing my heart out, too. It turns out that children are their own people – who knew? – and my daughter had no intention of being a clone of her mother. She seems instead to have inherited her father’s knack for being completely tone deaf, and attempts at teaching her to play the piano failed miserably. I’ll be honest. I haven’t even managed to help her master clapping along to a beat.
Surely I love my daughter for all that she is and all that she isn’t, but I can now understand why so many former high school star athletes stand on the little league sidelines and sigh loudly. The feeling is part wanting to relive your glory days, part wanting your kids to experience the same adrenaline rush and pure joy, and part just wanting to be able to relate to this being that you created from your own self, that will be forever connected to you in a way that no one else in the world ever will or can be. And when you see your child moving in the direction of your spouse, or some different direction altogether, it can take the wind right out of your parenting sails.