A colleague of mine was telling me that despite having a PhD, well-paying job and successful career, a husband, and two twin boys, her dad has never really expressed pride for all she has accomplished. She is ethnically Indian, born and raised in the U.S., and said that when she started getting into making dosas (which she wasn’t raised with since her family is Punjabi), she *really* got into it and did many iterations of dosa batter to perfect her technique. When she mastered her batter, she then moved onto mastering getting it into the perfect flat, crispy circle on her tawa pan. And when she got it to where she was comfortable serving it to her relatives, she asked her dad to come over and be the ultimate judge. Her dad watched her carefully ladle the dosa batter onto the pan and spread the batter into a large, flat circle. And he grinned widely.
“Anita, you have mastered dosa!” he exclaimed. “This is my proudest moment as your father!”
She said to me, “Really? THAT was his proudest moment? The stupid dosa makes him prouder than everything I did throughout school, even my PhD, or the grandkids I gave him?!”
But it made me think about how proud I feel when Kaia masters things like… navigating around a lychee or cherry pit; when she was a baby and learned to “chew, chew, chew” before swallowing; when she cleaned her chicken drumstick of all the meat so that it was dryer than dry. And I was reminded once again of this feeling of pride when we saw Kaia at Lulu’s Char Koay Teow yesterday, clearly expending a lot of energy and focus in trying to master the art of using chopsticks to serve oneself food. Though she has been gifted two pairs of training chopsticks, we actually haven’t given them to her to try yet. In the meantime, she’s been demanding to use the regular chopsticks at our tables when dining out. At this meal, she attempted many times, failed a number of times, but simply just kept on going. She was successful more times than I could count getting the noodles into her mouth, and each time, she had a look of self-satisfaction on her face as she glanced at both of us for approval.
Everything has its season, as I was reminded by my night nurse three years ago, and as I am always reminded by parents of much older and adult children, and, well, as I remind myself all the time now. Kaia may not have cured cancer or earned a PhD at age 3. But the things she has mastered and is currently working hard on now, that are also seemingly age appropriate, are also worthy of recognition and praise. And so that’s why I love to sit in my moments of pride admiring her and appreciate it all for what it is.
Regarding my colleague’s story, this is how I replied, “I don’t know… I’m going to have to side with your dad on this one.”