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