You Can Pick Your Nose, But Not Your Kids

Shortly after actor Matthew McConaughey’s son was born, he told People magazine that he couldn’t wait to teach his boy how to surf so they could be shirtless surfer dudes together. Or something to that effect. People also quoted actress Kate Hudson’s response to this. With a handful of parenting years already behind her, Kate said something like, “Yeah, that’s what he thinks. His son will probably grow up to be a preppy chess player.”

Her comment got a chuckle and a big nod out of me. We get to pick our kids’ names, their haircuts and clothes (for a little while), and sometimes, like me, even their birthdays. But we don’t get to pick much of anything else.

A dear friend of mine just had a baby last week, and she didn’t get to pick much about the way he entered the world or the first 48 hours of his life. Pretty much nothing went the way she would have chosen. I watch my husband try to talk our son into playing ball in the yard, but he’s rarely interested. Regardless of what we envisioned for him, we don’t get to pick his interests. We don’t get to decide that he likes footballs and basketballs more than bullwhips and cap guns. He gets to pick.

I don’t think I would’ve picked four c-sections or to have three teenage girls the year I turn 50. (Yeah, I’m gonna need a big party that year.) I probably wouldn’t pick sensitive children who cry for no apparent reason or fanatical rule-followers who won’t even sneak a pack of fruit snacks into a gym that says “No food allowed.”

But when I think about it, they may not have picked a mom who snarls at the thought of Play-Doh or homemade necklaces. They may not have picked to live in a cluttery house where occasionally their mom can't even unearth the phone. And what if MY parents had been able to pick out all the finer details of my life? I’d be an arthritic 300-pound lineman right now. My father probably shook his head more times than I know at the 13-year-old female creature who spent way too much time fussing with her hair and reading V.C. Andrews books.

I’ve gotta think this is all for the best. If we really got to pick our children’s personalities and interests, wouldn’t we all just be raising much-improved clones of ourselves? How boring would that be? I’d be missing out on pipecleaner art and nonstop tiger trivia—not to mention bullwhips and cap guns.

So, uh, good luck with that surfing thing, Matthew McConaughey. Better brush up on your chess game just in case.