Today I was so lucky to be graced with the presence of several amazing ladies, all whom happen to be mama’s as well.  We observed how our little ones mingled with other tiny people.  We commiserated the bads and graciously accepted the goods.  We enjoyed a few short chats scattered amongst baby wrangles and yogurt spills.  But one tiny sparkle of a conversation sticks out in my mind most of all.

Miles towered over most of the babes at hand today and for the first time I had the “older” one around.  So what else would we do but oh yes, talk about potty training.  While yes, Miles has had his ups and downs and even further downs with the whole shebang, overall I am very proud of my little man.  Oh, how he tries.  Except when he doesn’t of course.

The conversation trickled about and eventually landed on one of my most favorite and valued lessons of the motherhood experience.  Observations of various ages of wearing the oh so sought after big boy/girl underwear led us to the knowledge and understanding that no, it is not us, it is the god given child that decides their fate.  Their personality, their style, their method of learning, their likes, their dislikes all that stuff that makes us us is deep within their little souls.  Including when they might decide to give the old lu a try.  I am not saying you can’t assist in making this task easier (or harder for that matter).

My point is in every aspect of bringing up a baby, what you thought would happen, or what you envisioned as being a “good” mama is so far from the real deal it is quite surprising.  Biters, hitters, fit throwers, mommy clingers, fibbers, non-sharers and the likes are not made, they are born.  With each new phase brings a whole new realization on the matter.  You might say, no no, my child will not throw themselves on the grocery store floor flailing and groaning that they absolutely must have a yellow ballon.  That is not the way I would raise them!  Or for the feminist gothic art loving mother type, you do realize you are destined to have the little girl insisting on dawning a ruffly princess dress seven days a week?  Perhaps the sports fan parents expect to get the next Ken Griffey Jr. (he was good right?) only to have a little marching band fanatic.  Of course I am exaggerating and generalizing.  But my point is the same as the old childhood saying goes, “you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit!”.  Take the good with the bad, and cherish the fact that yes, your little person is just that.  A little person with a whole lot of agenda to attend to.

Oh motherhood, you are humbling in so many ways.  It is a constant game of second guessing your decisions, and rethinking your methods.  I am sure of one thing, this lesson is just starting to take shape.  In the years to come, my little boys will give me reason to revisit this topic again and again and again with out a doubt.

taken on this very day last year