Kids Know Exactly Who They Are.

Do we have the guts to accept it?

When I became a parent in 2004, I was chock full of grand thoughts and ideas. All parents are like this. You enter into parenthood like a contestant on a reality show: full of hope, lots of energy, and convinced you can win.

However, it becomes abundantly clear either around your 5th night without sleep or after Sandi with an i betrays you to Lesa with an e, that you are in WAY over your head and need a new plan.

When I was pregnant with my first child, I would daydream about my child. Honestly, this *child* I dreamed of wasn’t that unlike myself.

No parent imagines a child throwing tantrums at the sight of the color blue or growing up to live at home and collect disability.

No.

You dream they will inhabit your traits or your partner’s traits. You imagine they’ll cure cancer, win a super-bowl, write a novel, sing songs, recite poetry, help feed the homeless, recite poetry while feeding the homeless.

Let me be clear when I say ‘your traits’ I mean your best traits, not the crappy ones.

Not your pettiness or short temper, not your partner’s anxiety or inability to say the word spaghetti. Only the great ones that will coalesce into one perfect specimen.

This doesn’t happen.

My kids are not only polar opposites of each other, but they are also almost nothing like my husband or me. Yes, they resemble us. They look like us the way grapes resemble raisins. Under the right light you can see it, but mostly you have to be told.

There are certain characteristics that both possess that have wisps of our DNA, but these kids came with their own permanent factory settings.

What is our job as parents if it isn’t to Frankenstein these little suckers?

In the beginning, it’s very easy. When I say easy I mean, excruciatingly painful.

You keep them warm, keep them fed, keep them safe, show them love. You are a mess as you do this — just a disaster.

Because although you love this small creature more than you love yourself, you also love showering, ANY amount of sleep and a warm grilled cheese in complete silence.

As they get older, however, the personality emerges. All the likes and dislikes! This can be both endearing and grating. It’s cute when they adore blueberry muffins, less cute when they refuse to go anywhere in your black car because it’s scary.

You can swear up and down that you won’t tolerate this or that while you’re pregnant or they’re newborns. But once you have an actual person staring you down over a bowl of green beans on 3 minutes of sleep, it’s a different story.

And it should be.

They are actual people. They know what they want. They know what they like, what they hate (yup, hate), and what they can be talked into-just like the rest of us. They might be smaller, but don’t mistake their size for lack of conviction. That’s a rookie mistake.

I believe each of us comes to the planet, knowing exactly who we are. We are already fully formed.

We start our lives with a deep sense of purpose, a full heart, and a clear vision.

Then life happens. We then spend the rest of our years on the planet trying to resume that original quest.

I think that’s our job as parents.

We are here to see our kids for who they really are, recognize their unique gifts, and protect those gifts so they can be shared with the world.

Is there wisdom we can share and knowledge we can give? Absolutely.

Are there qualities we want to discourage, and others encourage? Of course!

Are there values and traditions we can pass on? Unquestionably.

Do we need to teach them manners? Yes. Please, and thank you!

But kids aren’t here to fulfill our dreams. They have their own, and they know what they are, too.

Perhaps that’s something we can do as well. Help them see what we see — the unlimited potential of their lives. A little pep talk now and then doesn’t hurt either.

In the end, isn’t that what all of us need?

A reminder of our dreams, someone who believes in our gifts, and a pep talk when things get rough.

I hope as my parenting journey continues, I can remind myself of all this wisdom. I do enjoy how together I am while everyone is sleeping and I’m alone drinking coffee.

Ah, wisdom. So meaningful, yet so useless in the face of screaming.