Throughout my life, I have been on a pursuit of justice and equality.  Nothing chaps my ass quite like seeing someone oppressed or treated unfairly.  Part of this is because I, myself, have been a victim of cruelty and injustice in my past.  So, I tend to root for the underdog, seek out the meek, speak for those who cannot speak for themselves and all that good stuff.

My son came along and he was refreshingly just like me.  I knew I could raise him in a way that would shelter him from undue harshness and also give him the self-esteem to carry him through the tough parts that didn’t go his way.  That’s worked out all right.  He and I can huddle together and talk about things and hash it all out, brainstorming ways to navigate the tricky teenage hardships that come along.

Then my daughter came along and she’s not like me at all.  She’s exactly the kind of bright, shiny, popular girl that I hated when I was young.  The kind who always seemed to have the sun shining on her when she was chilly and shade appear from nowhere when she was warm.  You know those girls.  Don’t they make you kind of want to barf?  What do you do when one of them is your daughter?  You change your whole view of the world is what you do.

First off, you have to accept the fact that life is not fair.  Your children come from the same gene pool, they are raised by the same parents, in the same house, but the Universe treats them differently.

My son’s accomplishments (honor roll, being excellent one-on-one company, being a phenomenal photographer, being a good role model and sturdy martial artist) aren’t glitzy, they aren’t in the spotlight, they go unnoticed by most people besides us and the teachers close to him.

My daughter’s accomplishments are in the public spotlight and because she’s tiny and cute, they are a novelty and people take notice.  She’s been in the local newspaper 4 times since March 1st.   She got her black belt (and was in the paper), then she won State Champ in taekwondo for three events (and got a special uniform declaring just that on its back), and now she won the Little Miss contest in our town (and is in the newspaper again, and will be treated like, well, royalty).  She barely sneezes without someone remarking how she sneezes especially well and perhaps there should be some sort of award given for best sneezer and it ought to go to her.

It’s more than that though, it goes deeper than just saying that these different personality types drive these kids into different directions and therefore one gets public attention (which she loves) and one gets quiet parental and teacher attention (which he is most comfortable with).  She’s just plain luckier. The two of them will be playing at a deserted playground, and who finds the $20 bill in the grass?  She does.  Street performers are handing out trinkets and who in the crowd gets tossed the toy?  She does.  The day after she won the Little Miss thing, I got a phone call from the library telling me that she won the summer reading prize and could come in any time to collect it.  I told them to give it to some other kid, because she just won a tiara and a gown and a big fancy title to wear for a year and the last thing she needs is to be showered with more prizes.  I mean, c’mon, it gets embarrassing after a while.  We have friends whose children are remarkably like ours and they have the same experience.  It’s not a totally isolated phenomenon!

We marvel and joke about her luck here at home.  We distribute the kudos equally, even if the world does not.  Because the rest of us in the house are not like her.  I am still awkward and shy and clumsy around people.  I still live in dread of catastrophe.  And, I’m superstitious about it.  The astrology thingy on Facebook is eerily correct, so I check it whenever something big is about to happen to try to get a feel for how disastrous the outcome might be.  When I see (like today) that there is a cloud on my money outlook for tomorrow, I get a sick feeling in my stomach and fret about where this financial storm will come from.  I’m one of those anxious and cynical people who relates to Eeyore rather than Tigger.  Bad luck does not surprise me, it’s what I expect from life, so when it doesn’t happen, I’m pleasantly shocked. 

But, I see people like my daughter (and my eyes have been opened to those little freaks, I can spot them a mile away now and recognize them as their own subspecies), it gives me hope for the world.  In my own past, I have seen some of the worst of people.  But, recently, because of her activities, I have been overwhelmed with the kindness of other people.  They’re kind to her and they’re kind to her family, and it’s made me quite emotional at times. 

Yes, she has made me change my view of the world completely.  Change my perception of justice and what is fair, change my view of mankind and how we treat each other, and change my view of my own luck.  I am certainly lucky to have her, and my other two children (who thankfully are the way they are, because God help me if all three were like the middle one, it would drive me crazy) and they help me see it all in a different way.  She’s dragging me through a world that is as foreign to me as another planet.  A world of smiles and glitter and candy and rainbows, and I am so grateful that we all have the luck to visit this odd place.

I know that this child’s lucky streak cannot continue forever.  I know that at some point, she will fail big, she will suffer cruelty from someone, and at some time down the line she will be treated unfairly.  There will be a time when she’ll step out of the lilac scented sunshine and into the gloom, into the world I know too well, because like I said, I have learned that life is unfair, so this is only inevitable.  I dread the day, because it might be especially hard for someone like her?  Is the fall harder when it comes from such a height?  I don’t know.  But, when happens, I will be able to scoop her up into my arms, brush her off and show her how to cope, because while her gift is spreading joy and laughter, mine is giving sympathy and wiping away tears. 

There’s a moral in there somewhere.  Some tidy wrap up to tie it all together.  I just haven’t got it yet.  Maybe in a few more years.

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