Children, I think, are more detrimental to heart health than salt, booze and a sedentary lifestyle combined. Not a day goes by that my heart does not melt, swell, break or stop because of my kiddos.
We've got "Country Kids", and there's nothing they want more than to be like their 4-wheeling, snowmobiling, mechanic daddy. My boys are tough and strong and proudly redneck -- and my husband encourages the ol' growin' up in the country tradition of kids learning how to drive before they can even
write cursive.
When my oldest boy was just 5 years old he could drive our old riding lawnmower (with the blade removed and my husband walking next to him, calm down), in reverse down the driveway with a trailer attached. This is something I don't think I could easily do at any age, and he did like he has been for years.
I remember my husband coming to get me - "come see this!" - and me freaking out appropriately, applying a defibrillator to myself and then lecturing my husband on 5 year old driving anything, while secretly being amazed and proud of how competent my little boy was. I've learned over the last few years that pride and panic usually come as a combo -- the short of breath, anxious feeling you get as your child leaves for the first day of school, their first bike ride without training wheels or performing in the school talent contest... morphing into a burst of pride when they succeed.
As your kids grow, their firsts become more panic inducing -- their first solo step is a big deal, but compared to their first solo drive... I can't even imagine, hopefully in 8 years we'll all be floating on fluffy cushions as a mode of transportation and I'll never have to worry about my kids behind the wheel of a car... on a highway...driving 70MPH. (Pause for deep breath).
As a mom, your desire for your child's success and well being amplifies the emotions of the situation. I'll never forget the tornado of emotions as my first-grade daughter and kindergartner son took the stage to sing God Bless America in front of about 300 people at the school talent show. The pure adorableness, their obvious nervousness, and their bravery to stand in front of that crowd, these two tiny people on stage, huddled together, sharing a mic, singing sweetly out-of-key with determination. Heart stopping. Melting. Swelling. And then not winning. Breaking. I can't believe the stress of that 3 minutes didn't do me in and if I hadn't been distracted by my video camera crapping out I probably would have been a blubbering mess.
All our life's experiences give us the insight of what can go wrong when we take a risk, and our super-mom persona wants to deflect all that agony. But a life without risk, making an effort, putting ourselves out there, is a life without the satisfaction of success and pride in our own abilities, even if we (and our moms) have to deal with a little defeat along the way.
So we take our pride with a side of panic. We pack our bucket to collect the pieces of a broken heart and try to remember to breath when our hearts stop, just so we can be ready for the swell of pride - and that moment your kid looks up from whatever amazing feat they just accomplished to catch your eye and see your excitement for them. Melt!
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