Genetic Roulette
I always thought that if my kids came out looking like me and having the personality of my husband, they would end up on the winning end of the gene pool.
No such luck.
While the odd stranger in the grocery store comments on how much my daughter looks like me, the majority of humanity sees their dad when looking into the sweet little faces of my children. And as for their personality...let’s just say I do believe my parents are having a secret little laugh at how I am now getting my just desserts after all I put them through as a toddler.
Don’t get me wrong...my kids are not poorly behaved. They don’t run wild in public (at least not yet – one of them can barely crawl), they are polite for the most part, and so far they respond (age) appropriately to correction. It’s just that they are slightly (for lack of a better word) insane. Maybe not insane...just intense (which for some reason comes off looking insane a better part of the time).
I wish for the life of me that they had their father’s even temperament, his lack of emotional extremes and his laid back approach to life’s curve balls. Instead, they prefer to ride the roller coaster of emotional extremism, reacting to much of life with award winning dramatic flair. From tears to euphoria...I can barely keep up with the pendulum of dispositions. We laugh until we cry, then we cry until it makes us laugh. We fall apart when our block tower does, and then rejoice hysterically over finding our lost Dora figurine in the bottom of the bucket.
It’s exhausting to watch. And more than a little bit humbling.
It’s easy to take credit for your children’s stunning looks or their blossoming athletic ability or musical talent, but when it comes to personality traits that you have struggled to keep in check all your adult life...it might be easier at times to claim your kids are adopted. And while some of these antics can be chalked up to simple childhood development, DNA also plays a role. For better or for worse...these are the risks that you take when you play “genetic roulette.” Besides, my husband tells me that my “passion” (his diplomatic way of calling me a Drama Queen), keeps life interesting. And when it comes to keeping up with the escapades of my children...well, interesting it is.
No such luck.
While the odd stranger in the grocery store comments on how much my daughter looks like me, the majority of humanity sees their dad when looking into the sweet little faces of my children. And as for their personality...let’s just say I do believe my parents are having a secret little laugh at how I am now getting my just desserts after all I put them through as a toddler.
Don’t get me wrong...my kids are not poorly behaved. They don’t run wild in public (at least not yet – one of them can barely crawl), they are polite for the most part, and so far they respond (age) appropriately to correction. It’s just that they are slightly (for lack of a better word) insane. Maybe not insane...just intense (which for some reason comes off looking insane a better part of the time).
I wish for the life of me that they had their father’s even temperament, his lack of emotional extremes and his laid back approach to life’s curve balls. Instead, they prefer to ride the roller coaster of emotional extremism, reacting to much of life with award winning dramatic flair. From tears to euphoria...I can barely keep up with the pendulum of dispositions. We laugh until we cry, then we cry until it makes us laugh. We fall apart when our block tower does, and then rejoice hysterically over finding our lost Dora figurine in the bottom of the bucket.
It’s exhausting to watch. And more than a little bit humbling.
It’s easy to take credit for your children’s stunning looks or their blossoming athletic ability or musical talent, but when it comes to personality traits that you have struggled to keep in check all your adult life...it might be easier at times to claim your kids are adopted. And while some of these antics can be chalked up to simple childhood development, DNA also plays a role. For better or for worse...these are the risks that you take when you play “genetic roulette.” Besides, my husband tells me that my “passion” (his diplomatic way of calling me a Drama Queen), keeps life interesting. And when it comes to keeping up with the escapades of my children...well, interesting it is.
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