I never got to meet my dad's mother, but my dad has told me that she liked to brag about him...a lot. He said she would embarass him, by often doing it right in front of him.
My mom's mother - well, I don't know how often she bragged about her kids, but I do know that she loved to brag about me. I know this because, most of the time, I was standing right there! There was the time that I stayed over night, and I was sprawled out on the couch watching television, (I was 10, maybe?), when she suddenly entered the room with the paperboy, saying, "Here's my darling granddaughter. Isn't she beautiful? You two chat while I go get your money".
Then, there was the time that our whole family ate at a fancy restaurant, celebrating someone's birthday, and she invited the good looking valet guy to come back to her house, and have cake with us. She enticed him with, "This is my gorgeous granddaughter. She's smart, too". I think she was giving him the rest of my credentials as I yanked her into the car.
Yes, I come from a long line of braggers. But, I am a humble person, and I was sure that I wouldn't become one...until now.
After "trying" to get pregnant for two long years, I was losing hope. We were saving up for adoption when I finally saw that glorious plus sign! After the first four long, colic filled months, we learned that Dylan had torticollis. The weekly therapy sessions, specialist appointments, and 3 times daily stretches wore me out. I just wanted to enjoy him, and all the "normal" things about having a baby.
At nine months of age, he began wearing a helmet, to help his head develop into more of a round shape. For many months, I added the helmet fittings to all the other appointments. Everywhere we went, I had to deal with the stares, the questions, the looks of pity. Dylan didn't mind the helmet at all. I was the one that needed to adjust. When the helmet finally came off, I could run my fingers through his silky hair, and put his cheek next to mine, without feeling the cold plastic between us. Dylan could finally be the focus, instead of the helmet.
Now that Dylan is done with therapy, I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders. When I look at old photos, I am amazed and incredibly proud of how far he has come.
Working with other peoples' children, there have been kids I enjoyed being around, and kids that bored me, frustrated me, and basically tried to drive me to insanity. Before having Dylan, I sometimes worried, what if I don't enjoy being around my own child? What if our personalities are too different? What if we just don't connect?
That certainly isn't the case. I adore Dylan. I love spending time with him so much that it is difficult to be away from him. I love his personality - the passion he has for the things he loves, the joy he finds in life, the sweetness that is so much a part of him. How can I NOT brag? It's in my blood. I can't stop...and I'm not sure I want to.