Shooting for the Stars

It is the middle of the night and I am suddenly awake, my brain prodded to high alert by the words of the psychologist at a conference for Parents of Only Children.

He had said parents such as us, blessed as we may be with only one child, might feel that this is our one and only shot to do it right.

All our hopes, dreams, and aspirations pinpointed with laser precision on this one individual.

He’s right I think with the conviction one can only have at that hour of the night. There is no “do over” with only one child.

Concert pianist. Celebrity Chef. Federal Reserve Chairman, sorry Chairperson. Nobel Prize Winner. Leader of the Free World.

This is my one shot.

I’ve got to get on this right away. What was I thinking, letting my daughter waste these precious seven years indulging in pursuits of her own?

It is now 3:00 a.m. I contemplate getting on the Internet to start investigating right away the activities I could sign her up for. Then I could be ready with my list by morning and begin making calls first thing.

My mind is swirling with plans—Mandarin classes, private tutoring in math and science, chess, piano, tennis. I would definitely need an excel chart.

My sleeping husband irritates me. Gloriously unaware that we may be nurturing the next Gloria Steinem under our roof. Do I have to do everything?

Fate may have dealt her a sibling-less hand but there are advantages to being an only child. Never a need to compete for your parent’s attention. No need to say, “you love her/him more than me,” (saying it about the family dog just doesn’t carry the same weight).

Never having to share a room or beloved toy or dragged to siblings’ baseball games and school plays.

Then unbidden a picture slips into my supercharged minds. How she looks longingly at the neighbor’s kids with their built in companionship. Building sandcastles by her self at every beach vacation while close by brothers and sisters play Marco Polo.