Parents always joke that you will get a child that is “just” like you — a blessing or a curse.
There are many things about me, if I may be so modest, I would love for Miles to inherit — my fearlessness, independence, compassion, passion for life, tenacity and friendly nature. But there are quite a few things I hope skip a generation, no skip on out completely.
I am stubborn. No, really, I am VERY stubborn. Ask my husband, ask my mother, ask my sister, well really you could ask anyone that has known me for more than a few minutes and they would tell you that.
I can, OK, I often do, overreact initially. I have a tendency to avoid tough issues often times walking away from them as opposed to tacking them/talking about them head on.
And these are things, unfortunately, I’m starting to see rear their ugly head with my munchkin. If he doesn’t want to do something he won’t. I know, all of you parents out there say that applies to every kid. Well take that average stubborn toddler status and multiply… by a lot!
Miles can throw a pretty good tantrum too.
Which brings me to today. It wasn’t a typical morning at the Doyle household. Usually Miles is my alarm clock waking up around 6:30 every day. But last night he woke up around 2:30 a.m. with a nightmare screaming and crying hysterically. He was up for more than an hour before he went back to bed.
This morning when I left the house he was still asleep in his crib. I got a message from Michael a little after 9 a.m. that said, “I was sitting on the couch about 9 a.m. wondering how late Miles was going to sleep when I heard the doorknob to his bedroom jiggle. The door opens, he walks matter-of-factly out into the living room, turns on the TV and brings me the PS3 remote.”
We don’t have cable so Miles’ cartoons come via streaming Nexflix on Michael’s PlayStation 3. I guess my independent little guy was ready for cartoons. But that jovial morning mood didn’t last long.
About an hour later Michael says, “A minute ago I fussed at him for climbing over the back of the couch. He gave me a dirty look, then ran to his room and slammed the door. When I finally stopped laughing, I went to get him and he came out with a basket on his head.”
There’s no way around it, he is definitely my son!
How about you? Do you find a lot of yourself in your children? Do you cringe or smile?