Permission to Beam

I used to secretly roll my eyes at moms who carried on and on about how special their kids are. 

Comments like, "My not-yet two-year-old potty trained himself in one day," or "my three-year-old is already reading at a third grade level," or "my little one can recite the declaration of independence while hopping on one foot and balancing a spinning basketball on their finger." 

(ok, that last one was a little over the top, but you get my point) 

Listening to these comments I'd think to myself, "I get it. Your kid is amazing, exceptional, one of a kind."

Last week Jonny's kindergarten class put on a Thanksgiving play. Jonny enthusiastically played the role of a Thanksgiving Turkey. Watching him, I must have looked like a ridiculous overly-proud  mama with the huge grin planted on my face during the entire performance. To me, Jonny's turkey 'strut' and well-rehearsed 'gobble' were hands down the cutest of all the other fellow turkeys. I was beaming with pride for my five-year-old thespian. 

What I'm trying to say is, I'm guilty. 

I've become one of those moms who swells with pride over the accomplishments of her children, whether big or small. When they impress me with their talents, intelligence or kindness I immediately want to share with someone else. The obnoxious over-the-top cheerleader I was in highschool returns in the form of a wide-hipped mama whenever Jonny scores a soccer goal, or Zach remembers to share with his brother, or Dean pees on the potty. I can't help myself. 

And that's ok. Actually, it's important. It makes sense that as moms we naturally feel this amazement with our own children. Because in their own way, each IS special, having come to us with unique talents and gifts.  And as long as I recognize that their innate abilities have come from somewhere beyond my parenting, 

I am giving myself permission to beam and swell and cheer at the goodness that makes 

my little ones who they are. 

And I'm sure an occasional pat on my own back wouldn't hurt. ;)