Arms

At nine months old my eldest pointed her big green eyes at me and signed the words "Eat more please". I pointed my green eyes back at her in awe. It seems that from the moment I read the blue lines on the stick I have been in reverant awe of them.



I remember pouring over books with pictures of developing embryos thinking - this is what my blue lines looks like this week . . . and then being all excited when they grew arms. Arms were a big deal until they grew fingers. Then fingers became a big deal. I remember the moment they were born, checking to see if they had all ten fingers and all ten toes, as if that was proof that they would be Nobel Peace Prize winning sports stars. I was so thankful that I had provided the perfect environment for them to grow perfect arms.



This last week my brown eyed blue lines learned to cross his arms, that I was so excited he grew, at me. Suddenly, I stopped being so thankful that they grew.



Why is it that we as parents believe that we can create perfect environments where our blue lines will adore us and be Nobel Peace Prize winning sports stars? I never imagined that sacrificing caffeine, highlights and tuna fish would result in the arms that I grew for him, crossing in disgust -- AT ME!!!



I have learned in the last eight years that these amazing blue lines will never - this side of them having kids - understand what I gave up for them. Though I waited with baited breath to see their arms, they will not look at their own with the reverance I feel.