Becoming Fully Themselves...

Growing up, I was a dancer - a ballerina. I played softball and basketball. I joined every club I possibly could.

When I imagined having kids someday, I think part of me assumed they’d love all the same things I did.

But my daughter never played softball. She danced for a little while, but it was never really her thing. Instead, she found volleyball in grade school and lacrosse when she entered high school. And honestly, we don’t even look alike - as evidenced by the amount of times people assumed I was the nanny instead of her mom. Which, looking back, is actually kind of funny. My son played baseball and... well, baseball. That was his go-to sport. He tried soccer for awhile, but his baseball team is the one that became family. But he wasn't a club kid in any other respect - and led a quiet, low-key high school life. (Although his love of Pokémon right now is club-level, lol!)

When you’re young, you picture motherhood a certain way. You imagine sharing your favorite hobbies, reliving parts of your own childhood through your kids. But over time, your perspective shifts.

Because while my daughter and I do share some things (a love of crafting, reading, and sewing) and my son and I do, too (the Chicago Cubs, traveling, and fishing), there are also so many differences between us.

And I don’t mourn that.

I don’t mourn the fact that she never played softball, because instead I’ve gotten the privilege of watching her become her own person. Same with my son - he found his interests and teaches me about them. I get to watch them pursue things I never did, love things I never experienced, and dream bigger and differently than I ever imagined for myself.

And isn’t that what we really want for our kids?

Not to become us.

But to become fully themselves.

There’s inspiration in our children, too.

My son chose a path that looks different from many of his friends. While they headed off to four-year colleges, he chose to pursue becoming a fireman - a career that will allow him to do incredible things for his community. I know that choice probably felt scary at times. What teenager doesn’t wonder if they’re missing out on the “traditional” college experience? But even then, he knew what he wanted. And he’s worked toward it with a confidence and determination I truly admire.

And my daughter? She was never meant to stay still.

She was made for movement and adventure. For sunshine and big cities and experiences beyond what I ever had at her age. New York. Florida. Paris. Somewhere full of energy and possibility. She’s willing to step outside her comfort zone and chase the things that excite her in a way I never was when I was younger. I spent so much of my life afraid to leave home, afraid of the unknown.

She isn’t.

And maybe one of the strangest, most beautiful parts of parenting is realizing your children were never meant to simply mirror your life back to you.

They are meant to expand it.

To show you different paths.

Different dreams.

Different versions of courage.

And if we’re lucky, we don’t just teach our children who to become.

Sometimes, they teach us too.