We Often Wonder Where our Children Came From…

When they are persistent, determined and athletic or coordinated we wonder if they were switched at birth. When they argue and refuse to concede or cooperate we speculate that siblings have influenced their behavior. When they are particularly challenging we assume that we unknowingly and unintentionally bestowed irreparable damage based on our naïve, fly-by-the-seat-of-our-pants parenting. When we are utterly befuddled by their behavior we question if they are aliens from outer space.

When they are downright naughty we blame each other’s inherent personality traits.

When Nico ran from the room crying and seeking solitude in his bedroom where he could contemplate the cruelty of his misunderstood little world – ruefully refusing unauthorized entry, preferring to allow his emotions to flow uninhibited in seclusion (all a reaction from having a remote control seized from his curious little hands) Roger suggested I would be better equipped to deal with the emotional struggles currently overwhelming our two year old.

I cautiously considered the underlying connotation of his recommendation.

I am emotional. I wear my heart on my sleeve. My feelings are easily bruised. I shrewdly allude to my annoyances and I clearly convey my anger. I stew until I am emotionally exhausted and I resort to emotional isolation until I am ready to forgive.

Yes, I do understand Nico’s emotional turmoil.

But I am also ruthless.

Feeling battered and defeated after arguing for hours with Hope - this girl who is relentless, persistent, stubborn and genuinely loves to argue simply for the sake of arguing and has mastered the art of wearing down her opponent to the point of submission – I pondered my options as I watched Hope stomp through the house justifying her actions, reiterating her stance and negotiating her privileges.

I casually indicated that Roger should go deal with his daughter.

We know all too well, but often refuse to admit, exactly how these children came to be.