It’s scary that my kids are so radically different from each other.
For a person who lines up her cans in the pantry, it’s pretty harsh.
I submitted identical genetic samples, raised them in the same house with the same rules with unvaried routines, and they are from five different planets.
And that’s only if Pluto counts.
I see the new mommies struggling with nap times and feeding questions and juggling all the baby books I used to have memorized and I just want to group hug them.
We try so hard to get it right the first time. Ok, every time. The responsibility of an entirely dependent little human is overwhelming.
What you need to know is that your little one was born with a complete personality.
And there’s nothing you can do about it.
Maybe the instruction manual didn’t appear with the placenta but baby will be telling you all about herself as time marches on, so on the other hand, you can’t really screw it up.
Having kids is like going on a blind date with someone you’ve already promised to marry.
You have no idea in advance if he is stubborn or artistic or has a harelip or will drive you nuts with a bad knuckle-cracking habit.
You assume, however, that it will be love at first sight.
And you’ll spend the rest of your life being regularly surprised by who this person is.
Kid number one I raised “by the book” (there’s a new one every year) and a more free-spirited independent thinker, you won’t find.
Kid number four was raised by a pretty independent free-spirited approach and he’s a steady, linear thinking, self-possessed person. He loves to go “by the book”.
By kid number five, I just shook the Magic 8 Ball and let it decide whether his nap time was going to be attempted or not.
I look at a child once in a while and ask, “Who are you? Where did you come from? This must be from your father’s side of the family. Waaaay down the line.”
It’s stupid that one size won’t fit all when it comes to discipline, either.
Kid number one couldn’t be begged bribed or beaten into obedience. If it was his idea in his own time and he had his own reasons, he did it.
Kid number two dissolved into tears with one harsh look. She’s 21 now and still hates being naughty.
Kid number three treated everything as a good laugh. And she still laughs at my attempts at discipline.
Can you understand why I just gave up?
These days, I’m begging kid number five to please just send me to my room for a time out.
I wouldn’t trade motherhood for all the tea in China (and that’s really saying something) but frankly, along with all these free-wheeling celestial bodies, I would have loved some order in my universe.
Maybe NASA has the manual.