My kids are pretty cool. Sometimes they drive me crazy and I wonder who spawned these little demons, but, nonetheless, they are cool. I am amazed at how their little brains work and discover the world. Their intelligence always catches me by surprise and the joy they bring to my life is unmatched. Spending time with them is fabulous, but, I hate to admit…
I have nothing in common with my kids.
Yes, I have all boys, but that doesn’t really seem to be why we are so different.
They are literally obsessed with Legos. They would play (actually, I get lectures from everyone when I call it playing, apparently it’s called building) with Legos for hours on end. And the worst part is, they are SO GOOD AT IT. Their creations blow me away and not just the ones they build from the directions – their original creations. My Lego talents stop around duplo matching aka. the lowest of the low in Lego world. When I try to build with them to spend time together, I actually get the patronizing, “Good try, Mom. Do you want me to fix it?” I just don’t think it’s fun. Maybe my spatial ability is lacking or the creative gene is missing from my DNA, but it’s just not for me.
I love soccer.
I have played soccer my whole life and now that I am on the downward leg of being able to play, I coach soccer. My kids don’t care about soccer at all. I have never forced sports or soccer onto them, but they have been around it since they were born…and it’s just not for them. It is harder for me than I want it to be. I want to be the mom who can blow that off and realize that they are expressing their identity, but I have a small tinge of sadness not to share such a big part of me with them.
My oldest son thrives on creating, maybe it’s all the Lego building, but he loves to write books and illustrate the pages. He is constantly drawing pictures and has his own desk at our house for all of his art supplies. My idea of art and creating is putting my digital pictures from my phone into a photo book online (which I actually struggle to do with my attention span as it is).
They all want to travel to different countries and have days full of activities. I am a homebody and enjoy playing games with friends at our house or hosting cookouts.
The list could go on.
Our differences are pretty stark. It is not how I pictured parenting. I had envisioned sharing hobbies and growing within our similarities. I am (very) slowly realizing that the world I had envisioned with my fictional family would be boring. We wouldn’t go outside our known formula and discover new experiences. I suppose this is better for everyone, but I might still hold out a small glimmer of hope for a little something in common at some point.
