I posted yesterday about Lorelei’s latest checkup, during which it was confirmed what Eric and I have long suspected: Our daughter is exceptionally tall.
I found myself worrying last night about how she’d take it when she’s in middle school and a full head taller than everyone else – particularly the idiot boys. I found myself actually hoping that maybe her height will level out and that she won’t be that much taller than everyone else. (Speaking as the tall girl who was always looming back and center in class photos – I would have killed to be one of those cute short kids who got to hold the class sign – I have some experience in this area.)
And then I realized how stupid I was being.
I want my daughter to be extraordinary, to lead an exceptional life, but at the same time I want her to be just like everyone else. To blend in and not make waves.
It sucks sometimes, but the fact of the matter is that blender-inners don’t lead extraordinary lives. Instead of hoping my daughter turns out to be like everyone else, I should instead be focusing on helping her grow up strong enough and confident enough to embrace what makes her special. And to hell what everyone else thinks.
I hope she’s the tallest – and the smartest, the funniest, the kindest, and just the greatest she can be. And that we can instill in her the fact that being different isn’t always easy, but that it’s a wonderful thing in the long run.
Even if she never gets to hold the class sign.