I've had moments when I've been jealous of my kids. I'm not proud of those moments, and feel a little subhuman at the time. But my daughter's hair blows in the wind like she's in a modeling shoot or 80's hair metal video, where mine flies in my face in a big thick swarm. My son tans like an Italian while I burn like a Brit. They both have eyes with startling depth of color while mine change with my moods and can't commit. But the jealously sometimes runs more than skin deep.
Now they have both surpassed me in talent. My daughter is only six and was chosen for a dance company two years ago. She just performed in a musical theater performance and wasn't nervous a bit. She knew her parts and smiled and acted like it was no big deal. Just awesome. I, on the other hand, had a tendency to throw up before performances and I fell in my first recital.
My son is nine and he performs in rock shows with his music school, The School of Rock. He's been doing this for three years and totally rocks out like a super star. He just did an 80's show this weekend and tore up "Barracuda," among others, on the bass. I stare at him in awe, not believing he is even playing the instruments. I can't even read music and have been described by my husband as "not needing to sing out loud."
I'm crazy proud of them. And I like to think that some of this had to come from at least some part of my DNA. Maybe some recessive trait of talent and perfect hair and skin that tans. My husband just says, "You're welcome."