sydney’s sage advice
“How old was I when I started talking?” Sydney asked randomly the other day.
“Um, I don’t remember exactly but it was a little later than most kids -- I think you were close to 2.”
“WHAT?! Don’t most kids start talking at like 1? What was wrong with me? Weren’t you concerned?”
“Not really,” I laughed. “We assumed you were putting all your energy into growing all that curly hair and being like 6 inches taller than all the other kids. You got teeth late, too. That’s just how you were.”
I really wasn’t concerned. I never got too caught up in comparing her with other kids (those poor little suckers wouldn’t have stood a chance, anyway 😉).
I think one of the gifts of adoption was that I had no expectations about what my girls would look like or how quickly they should develop. There was no genetic template for either of them, so we just kind of sat back and watched it all unfold with curiosity.
I never thought they should BE a certain way. It was easy for me to just let them be 100% themselves, and they turned out to be polar opposites of each other in so many ways. (They’re not biological siblings).
Just the other day we were talking about the things that Sydney will have to do for herself when she’s at college next year -- a frequent topic of conversation these days -- and I cracked a joke about her being coddled and unprepared for the real world. (It was a joke, but not really…)
Without missing a beat, she said, “You really can’t blame yourself for that. Look how independent Katie is. That’s just our personalities.”
And she is so right, of course. We have such a great laboratory for nature versus nurture in our house. And now that Sydney knows her birth family, we have an even deeper understanding of what makes them tick.
Turns out, her birth mom (by her own admission) is stubborn and opinionated, has no time for the “silly games boys play,” and wants to sleep all the time, too. Just like Syd.
I am proud of how we all recognize each other’s unique quirks and [most of the time] respect them. There’s no expectation that we need to think or behave like each other.
When I sat down to work on this piece yesterday, I asked Sydney what I should write my weekly email about.
“Tell them how I was a late talker but I turned out just fine, which means that everyone is different, and that it’s fine to be exactly how you are.”
So, there you have it: whoever you are, however you are, wherever you are on your journey, you’re exactly who, what, and where you’re supposed to be.
You’re just fine. Just like you are.
Love, Teddey (and Sydney)
