The Pride, It Cometh!

I was feeling really proud of myself this morning.

I was measuring the coffee and thinking about how one day, my girls won't ask me to get down on the floor and play pretend with them, and they won't think it's funny when I make Furby blow up Ariel and Lilo with his laser eyes, and how they'll find the campy German accent I give one ham-fisted blond prince even less funny than they do now.

But I thought that would be ok, because even though we won't do that, my girls will be grown up and developed into their own people. With their own personalities and preferences and passions that are not mine.

And this is when I started feeling proud of myself. Because I, you see, have been dedicated from the very beginning to being the kind of mother that lets my children be their own people. Who doesn't demand or even want them to be like me. Who admires, develops, and respects their individuality.

I pictured them, all grown up. I envisioned their individual, not me, future selves. There was Ayla, in her early 20's, going to college and reading Simone DeBeauvoir and bell hooks and Naomi Wolf and coming home to discuss feminism with me on the weekends.

And there were Indy and I, hanging out at the bookstore, watching the new Joss Whedon, happily discussing Western writers and excited for the Syfy channel's new show.


I'm kidding. A little bit. But I did have to admit how readily and fully I am going to accept my daughters' uniqueness.

As long as they are unique LIKE ME.

Suddenly I wasn't feeling so proud, and I began to panic. I had visions of Ayla telling me that women are the fairer sex and just not good at things like leadership and politics due to their genetic makeup or the presence of ovaries or what have you. She would eschew Harry Potter and care about things like handbag and high heel designers. I imagined Indy developing a fondness for chick lit and trite romantic comedies and Stephanie Meyer. .. and. . .Glenn Beck or Rush Limbaugh or Anne Coulter.

Anne Coulter! Wouldn't that be just like a daughter, to develop a love for what her mother cannot stand? (I chose not to use the word 'anathema' here because I don't like it) (There is a pun waiting to happen there, yes).

And then I think about how I'm due for payback for what I've done to my poor mother, who is ready and happy to accept all manner of my uniqueness and different passions as long as I would just grant her one wish and remain a Lutheran.

And what do I do? Turn 21 and promptly leave the Lutheran church.

Sorry mom.

I a due for a payback for sure.



*According to this site, those superheroes? All Lutheran.