Last night, as I sat in the Pediatric Emergency Dept. with Maia, it struck me how much I'm becoming my parents. I was sitting beside Maia's bed and rubbing her little back to relax her, something my mother did to me countless times as I was growing up. (Gosh, I think the last time I remember her rubbing my back was when I was sick as a dog while home from college on break! But I digress....)
Late last week I was thinking similar thoughts as I quoted my father to Chance, telling him what my dad always said to me when someone was picking on me.
I've often been struck by how much my parenting is evolving into a hybrid of my parent's styles and that of my own, but it never fails to bemuse me when I hear my mother or father's words tumbling out of my own mouth.
I've also come to realize how much of my pain they must have shared with me. As I listened to Chance talk about the boys treating him badly on the playground I felt his pain and remembered my own childhood angst. And as I sat beside Maia rubbing her back I thought that maybe my mom rubbed my back to reassure herself as much as to soothe me.
Whatever their motives, having children has made me realize how deeply my parents love(d) me. I look at my two and wonder if someday, far from now, they'll look at their own children and suddenly realize that their mean ol' mom loved them with the same fierceness they love their own children. Maybe, as they rub their backs.
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