How Could I forget My Own Kids?

I wrote my bio recently, for HubPages. I like it. I go back and read it sometimes and it makes me smile, looking back on my life. There is some sad stuff in there too, but I tried to make it easy for the casual reader to digest. I wrote the thing quickly, just to get something posted.

Obviously, big chunks of my life are missing from the bio, for good reason. The main one being that I am 50+ years old and I can’t exactly post a multi-chaptered essay All about Me. No room. No time. No interest. And, what a bore.

In reading it again though, I realize that a couple of critical pieces are missing: My daughters. I went into some detail about my son but did not specifically talk about my girls. Of all my children, my son is most like me. I took up enough space and time pointing that out, making it more economical to leave out the rest. As I mentioned, I wrote it quickly.

My daughters , unlike my son, are not like me. They share some physical resemblance and naturally imitate some of my mannerisms - for better or worse – but they are not like me in most ways. I like them better because of it. Living with somebody like me, well, it would have been a nightmare. I can barely stand my own self. Well, that’s not true exactly, but I would not want to live with me.

First-born children have a unique character, just because they were born first. It's the whole pecking order thing. Especially girls, I think. They are the Head Queen-Bee and in charge of everyone and everything, until, that is, the second child arrives. Even then, they assume a parental role in the new baby's care and raising. Like it or not. That time spent as the only child, however, shapes how they see themselves and how they behave in a crowd, forever. They are, and always will be, rightfully in charge.

As I watched my oldest child grow up and go through school, find her niche, choose a spouse, give birth to her own litter and finally, seek a career - properly suited to a Queen-Bee - it became less and less of a surprise to see her in charge of pretty much everything and everybody she ever encountered. She is, after all, the first-born, a natural leader. She can’t fight it and has, to the best of my knowledge, never tried. She just can’t help it.

My first-born daughter has wrestled more than her share of demons. She won, naturally, but those monsters left some scars. Some of them still come at her – from out of nowhere – and eventually, she conquers them again. At 29 years-old, she continues to astound me.

Then, there is the other girl. My baby. A whole ‘nuther kind of character. That same pecking order thing has shaped her character as well. Whether by luck or just nature, she had her pick of personality traits from the family tree. She chose well.

From the beginning, the youngest child was independent. She wanted nothing to do with my rules, although she never broke many because of her innate sense of logic. It just didn’t make sense. She made it clear, early on, that she would pick her own morality, behavior, and consequence. Luckily, most of these choices fell comfortably into my tolerance level and what didn’t, remained mostly a secret, thank you Jesus. She is 22 years old and I am, again, astounded. Nearly every day.

I have a stepdaughter that I briefly had a hand in raising, but I’m saving that for my book. As a bit of a spoiler, she turned out okay too, but she took the hard road getting there, much like my first-born. Until she met us, the stepdaughter was an only child. Whole ‘nuther subject there, too. No pecking. No order. Just the Princess-Goddess.

______________________________________________________________________

How ever I managed raising these people and having them turn out as they did, defies logic. I was strict, severe, often unreasonable, and criminally controlling. Ask any of them. I was on occasion funny, fun, hilarious, and unpredictable. I did make them laugh. And, they have superior taste in music. All things considered, they are all hugely successful, personally, professionally, and as parents.

I didn’t take the time or have the space to mention the girls in my bio. So, here it is. They are not like me. I’m so grateful.