How proud can I get?

Dearest Hubby and I attended a baseball game recently in a good-sized American city. Being the types that 1) hate paying an arm and part of a leg for parking if we can help it; 2) want to avoid the mess of post-game traffic; and 3) really do think that if you can take convientent public transportation, you should, found parking on the fringes of the city and used the light rail. It was nice, fairly clean and not expensive. Coming back, of course, half of the poeple of the city and most of the next two states packed themselves (with the encouagement of said light rail's employees) sardine fashion into, well, sardine-like cans. Most people suffered in silence as we waited for the trains to move (whch seemed slow in comparison to other public transport we've used). And anyone who knows me can guess, I was miserable. A bad back combined with claustrophobia make me wonder which circle of hell held this many people in this small a space. As DH expressed concern, andI kept telling myself that this would pass, I noticed the people lucky enough to garner seats. A few older people, parents with small children perched on their laps, and a LOT of teens and tweens busily texting their current status to all of their friends, who were probably sitting in the next car. Personally, I don't care of they text. I'm not a teacher, to worry that they are forming bad writing skills, nor am I their parent to have to pay the phone bill or be concerned that they may develop carpel tunnel of the thumbs. No, what I thought of was my daughter, and of one of the moments I was proudest of her.

Again, anyone who knows me knows I am proud of my Darling Daughter, and there have been many moments that come to mind when I think of that fact. I can be complacent that somehow we guided her through childhoold and her teen years with little screaming, crying and cursing (DD, did I ever apologize for cursing?). She was a good dancer, and just thinking of her senior solo still brings a lump to my throat. She graduated from college, then obtained a master's degree and a job (no small feat these days) that she likes (even rarer). She looked around carefully, and either by accident or design, marrried a wonderful man that we like and is kind to her aging parents. And now she's a fabulous mother, loving but firm, while still working at that job, making me proud by proving that one can be a terrific mother and still pay attention to a career. But sometimes I forget the little things, and this miserable light train trip reminded me of one of the best.

Years ago, DH, DD & I went to visit The Mouse at WDW. we stayed on site and took advantage of the World's bus transportation system (see numbers 1 & 2 in the first paragraph). DH has a habit of racing us through the crowds to be in the front of most transport lines, so we'd usually get seats on said buses. DD would sit next to us as people straggled aboard, standing in the aisles. And then, I began to notice, at some point, she'd get up and offer her seat to someone, allowing that person to sit while she stood and surfed the bus back to our lodging. Eventually, I mentioned it to her, that it was nice. She told me that she waited until someone got on who reminded her of me: a little overweight and very tired looking. I still get all choked up at this. Not only was she doing me proud by being polite (perhaps showing the world that, yes, we had raised a child who was POLITE) but also that she thought enough of me that she wanted to help me by proxy.

After DH and I & escaped the sardine can, he mentioned all of the youths sitting while older people (believe me, we weren't the only older ones on that train), and also reminisced about DD's habit of kindness. It made me feel a bit sorry for the parents of those children who weren't kind enough to think beyond themselves. Those parents weren't hurt by their children's inaction at this time, but they will never know the pride one can feel by knowing that their children are kind to strangers. I do. So my backache eased a bit. Pride is a good painkiller.

So, DD, if you ever read this, know that I am proud of you for all of the big things. But prouder still of the small ones. You will understand this some day. Your Precious Child will suddenly do something unexpected for someone else for love of you. The glow is so warm. Enjoy!