I had a proud mom moment. One of those moments where you realize you did something right despite having taken so many naps while you parked the kids in front of the TV. One of those moments that make you smile smugly but then instantly try to hide that smugness. One of those proud mom moments.
I was at the park with my kids and a friend. Daughter, the fashionista, was wearing a hot pink top with glitter, bright blue shorts, and knee socks. My friend thought Daughter had gotten those sartorial ideas from somewhere, and asked, "Who are you trying to look like?"
And Daughter said, "Myself."
<Insert beaming ear-to-ear grin here>
I have had other proud mom moments, of course, but this one came from my thirteen-year-old. Does anyone remember being 13? Do you remember the peer pressure? How everyone looked alike and if you didn't look a certain way you were labeled and probably snickered at? My daughter most certainly notices this, and gives not a fuck.
Which makes me THE GREATEST PARENT EVER WHO EVER LIVED EVER (suck it, every other parent worldwide
including my husband!), and I will laugh maniacally
all the way home.
In all seriousness, I have to confess that I don't know where I fall into the nature-vs.-nurture argument here - and that, in fact, her attitude may have nothing to do with my genes nor my guidance. I am still staunchly proud of the young lady I'm helping prepare for the world. Or perhaps, the young lady I'm helping prepare the world for.
