"I can do it myself!"
Well, OK then.
Toddler-in-training has got a mouth on her and an attitude to boot. She's also been working tirelessly on her sideways glare — you all know the one. The kid in question doesn't want to listen but can't help but look your way after being scolded, so without turning their head to give you the full-on stink eye they just turn their eyes like pissed off little cherubs. Yeah. She's getting really good at that.
Saturday morning was just icing on the "my baby is growing up" cupcakes for this Mommy. So much for my holding her hand to come down the stairs after she put me in my place; I couldn't even hold my hand out for her to grab in case she started to tumble because she pushed it away! I got the "myself" talk and then the glare and I decided I simply needed a caffeine IV to get through the day.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise that her independent streak would show up now in the sense that she actually tells me to back off. I mean, she's always been my independent child and very vocal about things she did or did not want to do, just like her sister but louder about it. No maybe not. They're both similarly obnoxious when they don't want to do something, which some parents would hate, but I secretly adore their independence.
Coming from a family of strong(willed) women where the backbone and shoulders are probably the strongest parts of our bodies — made of steel but cushiony soft — the idea that my kids are just as stubborn as me, my mother and my grandmother is pretty awesome. It's like all of us having the same nose or something. However, as much as I revel in that idea, it scares the crap out of me that I'm raising myself. Like, I don't know how my mom survived my adolescence and teen-angst years and I don't know if, in 10 or so years, I'll have the ability to handle all that plus the stuff kids are dealing with these days.
I was angsty, but I wasn't running around doing the things I hear about kids doing these days. I kept my nose clean and in a book most of the time; I was just infinitely pissed off at everyone about everything that wasn't happening in my novels or text books. I remember watching an episode of 20/20 back in the day about whaling off the shores of Iceland and getting so angry I wrote a letter to Jacques Cousteau about how whaling basically sucked and I hated it. I think I was 11, and 20 years later I can laugh at my innocence, but also know my heart was in the right place — and I still cringe at the thought of the news footage of those whales being harpooned and used for oil, but understand the need for warmth on a bitter cold night.
My goal is to raise my girls to be just like that. I want them to be fiercely independent when it's necessary but able to show their true colors, their hearts, and be logical and intelligent in their conversations.
Children are naturally fearless and Charlotte's need to come down those stairs herself yesterday morning, and most mornings, simply proved that fear isn't yet in her vocabulary and failure is something she won't admit to. She wants to do things on her own, and I can't blame her for that. Josephine was the same way, as were my niece and nephew, so, you know, I'm pretty much an expert on this.
Sometimes, you just have to trust them when they say they can do it on their own.
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