Getting to know my children as they figure out who they are is 
fascinating to me.   Each one is unique, and yet I spot bits of myself 
or my husband in them all the time.  Sometimes that’s good, but often I 
cringe a little inside when I recognize some behavior or trait that I 
know will lead them toward complications.  It’s hard to see wheels 
beginning to be set in motion and not be able to do anything about it.  I
 suppose some lessons have to be learned anew each generation, and no 
amount of cautionary tales from mom can help.
One of those traits I see in all my kids is a need to counterbalance 
too much joy.  I’ve always wanted to be one of those people who can 
enjoy the moment I’m in without reservation.  But I’m not built that 
way.  I can appreciate it if someone does something nice for me, but I 
don’t want to be the center of attention.  If everyone around me is 
happy I feel myself ratcheting down a bit.  On the flip side, if 
everyone is down I’m usually successful at cheering people back up.  I 
guess I want things level, but I couldn’t tell you why.
My kids are a little like this, most noticeably Aden.  She was happy 
when I went into her room this morning and wished her a happy 
birthday–for about two seconds.  Then she started telling me how much 
she was going to miss being seven.  I told her seven had indeed been 
great, but that eight was nice too and to give it a chance.  She perked 
up as she got dressed, and when she found I’d made pancakes in the shape
 of eights for breakfast she was delighted–for about two seconds.  The 
more you try to make her happy the more likely she is to get a bit 
down.  If we’re not careful and we try to do something too great she 
ends up alone in her room under the covers. 
There are times I want to 
shake her and say, “No!  Just be happy!  There are real things in the 
world to be sad about and this is not one of them!”  But there is 
nothing to be done.  She is who she is, and part of who she is happens 
to be me.  Poor thing.  But again, on the flip side, if someone is sad 
or in trouble or hurting, no one rises to the occasion better than 
Aden.  She is ready with a hug or a picture or a joke.  She will stick 
by your side like smiling glue until you are okay.  I think she likes 
things level, too.  She only indulges in being sad when everything else 
is fine, so that’s something.  There is a practicality to her 
counterbalancing act that must be imprinted in her genes and my own 
somewhere.
Mona at her own birthday party loved running around Chuck E. Cheese’s
 with her friends and she liked getting a medallion and a crown, but the
 more the guy in the mouse costume tried to engage her and make her feel
 special the flatter she seemed to get.  Several people asked me if she 
was tired because she’s normally so bouncy and bright, but I don’t think
 that was it.  She didn’t want the attention.  The calmer things were 
around her the more energy she seemed to have.  At Quinn’s little party 
we weren’t supposed to sing to him.  He loves being three, but if you 
try to congratulate him on it his mouth turns down and he sinks toward 
the floor.  He was happier when he got to share his toys than he was 
opening them.
We would all make terrible politicians I suspect–none of us able to 
bask in our own glory or talk ourselves up.  But that’s fine.  My 
children are all nice people with good hearts, and I like the way my 
life has turned out, so maybe things I perceive as flaws in myself will 
help them out in the long run.  I hope so.  I want them to be happy, but
 maybe that’s the wrong thing to wish for.  More than anything I want 
them to have purpose and be fulfilled.  There is a different kind of joy
 in that that I know I do have.  It’s probably not as much fun as being 
swept away in the moment, but it gives me a grounded sense of peace that
 I cherish.
But I still hope Aden smiles tonight for more than two seconds after 
she opens the over-priced pillow pet thingy I bought her that she wanted
 so badly.  Maybe if I stub my toe first she’ll keep smiling just to 
distract me….  Not that it matters.  Her real gift she gets this 
weekend.  Her dad’s coming home for a visit.  She’s planning to take him
 to show and tell and I’m sure she will be smiling the whole time.  I 
know I will.  Some kinds of happiness defy counterbalance.
 
 
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