Pride in Our Offspring

Here’s the one of the weird things I’ve noticed about being a new parent. I take more pride in people saying what a cute kid I have, than I do in almost anything else. I mean, I beam with pride when co-workers, casual friends, or strangers compliment me on Baby Girl.

Now, I know this has got to be pretty common – the taking pride part, and probably the compliment part, because really, who’s going to tell someone they have an ugly kid (come to think of it, one of Mommy’s friends doesn’t have a disconnect between her brain and her mouth, so at least one person might tell us the kid was ugly if she was) – but I was wondering why I took so much pride in it. I’ve accomplished a few things in my life, and by far people telling me the kid is awesome outstrips any of the compliments I’ve gotten for anything else.

Here’s my theory: while the things I’ve worked for and accomplished have been pretty cool, they’ve all been things that, as far as I’m concerned, just about anybody could do if they decided to. There isn’t much in life people can’t do if they put their minds to it. So as far as I’m concerned in my head, most of what I’ve accomplished isn’t all that impressive to me, because anybody could do it if they wanted. I don’t really view myself as all that inherently special. I’ve just applied elbow grease and brow sweat to a few things.

But the kid…the kid is something else. Our genes aren’t something we can work on. They are there, waiting to be deployed, and there’s nothing you can do if you are going to pass on the gene for a uni-brow, cankles, bad skin or a hairy back. So when you manage to produce a decent looking offspring, it really does confirm that you have some inherently good qualities. Now in our case, I’m guessing most of those physical qualities that people are complimenting our Baby Girl on came from Mommy. I’m not so delusional as to think that the good looks came from Daddy’s side. I’m just hoping she got my general good health, good cheekbones and maybe my passable athletic ability.

So when somebody does compliment Baby Girl, I guess I get that swelling-up-with-pride feeling because I have some confirmation that my side of the gene pool wasn’t polluted beyond redemption by some of my earlier life choices. If you’ve met my family, you know I was given a pretty good starting position in the genetic lottery. I come from a long line of pretty sharp folks, with passable looks (no hunchbacks, nobody who looks like they’re wearing a mohair sweater when they’re in a bathing suit).

For those of you who think I’ve been tooting my own horn here, let me dissuade you of that notion real quick. I mention those few good things about myself and my lucky hand in life, only because I’m pretty sure I could have made more of it by now if I had applied myself more in certain areas of my life. I refer to most of these things with a hint of bittersweet regret, because, I do know that I still have a lot of potential to live up to, and frankly having the kid has reminded me that I may be running out of time here.

I’m proud of Baby Girl and the compliments she receives because I recognize that she may be the best, most important, and most successful endeavor I ever have, or ever will undertake, and that somehow, if she does turn out to be as awesome as some people have said she is, and I hope she will eventually turn out to be, it might, to some degree, mitigate my failings in other parts of my life.