Quirky

I love the underdog. The kid that comes to school with their clothes askew, backpack half open, papers flying out, hair mussed. I love the ones who don’t quite fit in, the oddball, the weirdo, the horse of a different color.

Recently while walking into a market, I spied the Girl Scout cookie table. I started calculating in my head how I could manage to buy some thin mints and make it home without eating an entire sleeve. As I contemplated the cookies, I noticed one of the girls. She had long blonde hair that went in every direction as if she had just rolled out of bed. Her Girl Scout vest was off kilter, tennis shoes were scuffed and dirty, her face showed remnants of maybe her lunch or cookies? Her smile was bright and toothy, blue eyes shiny and expressive. She was talkative and willing to share her knowledge of the cookies and unable to stand still in her squirmy body. I adored her in all her disheveled silliness.

I used to work in an afterschool program with kindergarteners. My favorite little girl would burst into the room while yakking about something, backpack hanging off her shoulder, notes and pencils falling to the floor, never noticing the trail she left behind. She would continue to talk about how she didn’t want to get married because she’d have to kiss, and even though no one was listening, she’d talk on and on with exuberance. I thought she was the cutest thing ever.

While watching a production of The Nutcracker this past Christmas, I couldn’t take my eyes off of a tiny boy dancing among the children. He spent most of his time on stage looking at the other kids to figure out where he should be and what he should be doing. He was not the best dancer in the show but his heart shone brightly. It was clear he loved dancing. He stole my heart — just like the awkward teen who bags my groceries, my friend’s son who doesn’t get social cues, and the one who never stops talking about cars.

My kids were far from typical. They were different from each other, too, each with their own quirkiness. Being a new mom with non-cookie-cutter kids was difficult. Judgment from other parents often made it more painful. Sometimes my stomach churned.

I am a more experienced mom now. I love and appreciate the uniquely different kid. But I wish I had embraced my kid’s quirkiness when they were young. I wish I had looked at them with more accepting eyes. I wish I had understood then that being different was good. I wish I hadn’t given a crap what other parents thought.