When Your Kid Puts on His Own Pull-Up, You Know You Missed a Window

Ooops.

I guess this is birth-order in action.

My number three is four years old.   As twins, numbers one & two had to do a lot of things on their own simply because I couldn't do it all.  Now that I am parenting a singleton toddler (or little boy, whatever), I realize I can throw that twin guilt out the window, because there's a new inadequacy coming right down the track.

Today my sweet Jack began to turn into Violet Beauregard right before my eyes.  First, when I refused to put his pull-up on so he could finish his morning constitution (he still has potty issues), he ran to his room, stripped down, put on the pull-up, re-dressed himself and did his thing.  Later, when he yelled for me to wipe his nose for about the 20th time that day, I felt a barely contained urge to wipe it right off his face.  And at bedtime, he suddenly lost that ability to dress and undress himself and danced around the room while I maniacally chased him with p.j. pants, opened so he could slide each leg in.   Then it hit me:  I'm creating a monster.

Tomorrow, the madness will end. The nose I wipe will be my own.  Same for the shoes I put on and the pants I slide legs into.  I am laughing at myself because this image clashes with the one I had of myself.  Max & Alex were, by necessity, so self sufficient that I silently mocked those coddling moms.  And now, I have become one.

Serves me right.  I must remember to be kind both to myself, and to the other moms.