A Look In The Mirror

Photo by Witthaya Phonsawat
www.freedigitalphotos.net
 

If you've ever had an identity crisis and bemoaned "who am I?" Or thought you needed time to "find yourself," I can help with that. No, you don't have to go to a sweat lodge or engage in some meditative group waiting for the talking stick to make its way around the circle. No. If you want to know who you are down to your very essence, have a baby.

That adorable, cuddly, helpless, cooing bundle of love grows quickly. First they learn to smile and giggle *heart melt*, then they learn to sit up and eat solid food *happy claps*, and then they start to pull up to their feet. There is no greater feeling of pride than that of a parent watching their baby take his first steps.

Little Man will be three in just a few weeks. Lately, his personality has become... well... a taste of our own medicine. Good traits: curiosity, intelligence, eagerness to learn, happy-natured, independent, and free-spirited. Bad traits: stubbornness, and willfulness. Some days his good traits are bad too. Especially when he wants to exercise his free-spirited independence.

My husband and I have no one to blame but ourselves for the Little Man's nature. We find ourselves often quoting Jack Byrnes in Little Fockers - "double dose." We have to be honest with ourselves and each other about what we see in Little Man. We see ourselves just like looking in a mirror. Someday, we will be glad of all his traits, good and bad, because they will help him to survive in the real world and support us in our old age. For the present, we are exhausted trying to corral him to keep him from hurting himself.

Photo by Marcus
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I thought we did well to protect him when we installed cabinet locks and baby gates. Now that he's bigger, and climbing *gasp! what are you doing up there?!*, we have made our home a veritable fortress. We may have to lock the upper cabinets. The refrigerator is locked and the door knobs have spinny things on them so no one can open a door to get out. I can't shake the lyrics of Hotel California "you can check-in any time you like, but you can never leave," whenever I try to open a door. This is an attempt to prevent him from opening the door to the garage and then pressing the garage door button allowing him to escape into the street - where I found him the other day. *heart in throat*

I know that it won't be long before he'll learn how to open the gate, the cabinets, the refrigerator and the doors. For now, I'll just enjoy watching him trying to figure it out. I'll smile with serenity when he screams with frustration because he's safe and I'll cry with sorrow with him because I've felt that way too.