I never gave birth to any children. Papa Go Blue and I discussed it, and we decided not to. He had raised three children into young adulthood, and didn't want to start over again with a baby. I was so unsure of myself, especially whether I could be any kind of good parent, so I was relieved that the decision was made for me.
I also never had a strong urge to have children of my own. There was nothing in particular that I wanted to pass down to another generation. Wackiness? Not something kids would really benefit from having. Anxiety? Good lord, no. I'm not tall and slender. I'm not brilliant. My (step)kids are brilliant, but they don't come from my gene pool. As far as teaching children anything goes, I feel so out of my element. How could I teach someone how to get along in the world, when I've had such a tough time myself? I don't feel capable of giving any advice on how to get through teenage years or young adulthood other than "do it differently than I did". Luckily, the kids were so well brought up that they didn't need to come to me for much advice, anyway. They all were so successful, in finding mates and in finding their careers. Their parents did an amazing job.
The only ability I have that would love to share is that of being able to draw, and the love of drawing. I fantasize about sitting with a child and showing him/her how the space around something defines it, how color and light can be used to add dimension, and how putting grids over things and breaking them down into shapes can yield a remarkable likeness.
My dear stepchildren have grown into amazing adults. They each have two children of their own. They each fill my heart with joy, and I love spending time with them. I'm always thrilled when they bring me drawings. I applaud their artwork, and we post it all over our door (or we did before the realtor yelled at us to take the kids' artwork down while we had the house on the market).I watch each child drawing or painting, and wonder if maybe one of them will want to become an artist.
LG, my younger grandson, seems to show a tremendous interest in art. He talks about color a lot, and is always happy to draw or paint if I bring out the art supplies. He loves rainbows. He's done some amazing thing so far--we have a refrigerator magnet with a painting of his on it.
I try to be careful to just watch and show appreciation for what he does, and not to direct him at all. The art teachers I've known taught me never to do that. And it's possible that this will just be one expression of his interests. Maybe he will grow up to be a musician, another one of his interests. Or a scientist, like his father. Or a writer, like his mother.
But if he does choose art for his life's work, his grandmother will love to share it with him.