The war for independence

It’s tough letting your kids do things for themselves. While I’d like to pretend it’s because I'm reluctant to let them go, sad to see them moving just a little further from the nest, really it’s just because that learning curve often creates more mess for me in the here-and-now.

Sam (aka, the Mighty Midget) is all of 2 years old. And her favorite word is “SELF!”

“Here, honey, let me help you get those shoes on.”

“SELF!”

“Baby, can Mommy help you put that dress on?”

“No! Go’way! Do it self!”

“Sweetie, let me help you with this bottle of water. No, come on, it’s too full. Let me help.”

“NOOOOOO! SEEEEEEEELF!”

That the shoes wind up on the wrong feet, the dress is inside-out, upside down, and she’s drenched herself with the bottle of water is irrelevant. She’s 2 going on 22, and she knows best.

It just makes me CRAZY! I’m thinking, “For the love of all that’s holy, please let me put the goddamn shoes on your stubborn little feet so that we can get out the door! We are already late!” But I can’t. I let her do it herself because I know that I have to sooner or later. And hey, eventually she will be able to do it all by herself. (I just pray she won’t wind up color-blind like her brothers…who really puts a red-and-blue striped shirt with khaki camo shorts anyway? What Not To Wear? We’ve got a candidate for you right here. His name is Zach.)

Anyway...

Yesterday Mighty announces with a wave of her hand, “Poo! Gotta go poo!” as she prances out of the kitchen on her way to the toilet.

“OK, let Mommy come and help you.”

“No! Self! Pri’cy (privacy). Do it self. Go’way.”

Fine, you little prima donna. Go for it.

Not more than a minute passes and then I hear gagging coming from the general direction of the bathroom. Oh god.

“Honey? What’s the matter...OH MY GOD! What happened?!”

There is poo everywhere. On her dress. On her hands. On the floor. And yes, folks, on her face. Hence, the gagging. Because if you have poo on your face, I’m gonna bet you’d gag, too.

Crying. (From Sam. Not me, surprisingly enough.)

“It’s OK, baby. Mommy’s here. Let me take care of this. You’re OK. Alright. Let’s rinse off your face. Here, drink some water. You’re fine.”

There are just sometimes when asking for a hand is OK. And yes, I guess I should remember that when I find myself in deep shit—it’s OK to ask for help. You can’t always do everything by yourself.

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Hope you have a great Independence Day of your own. Happy 4th, everyone!