I-N-D-E-P-E-N-D-E-N-T do you know what that means?

There will be no surprise in my next statement: Roman has a mind of his own. This shouldn’t surprise anyone who knows his mother OR his father. But I can say with honesty that discovering your child’s personality can be a thing of beauty, but it can also be a long look in the mirror at a person you vaguely remember but have been frequently told about.

My husband will tell you that he was a bit of a “problem child”. His mother had her fair share of parent/teacher conferences and Maurice saw many detentions and lots of comments on those school reports. “He would be a great student if it weren’t for his talking in class”. This may surprise the many of you who know my husband now as the introspective, often quiet mate of mine, but that’s mainly because being married to me means that there is NO room for any other talking! Teachers, parents, friends – anyone – can attest to the fact that I was a model student with the books….but a TYRANT with the mouth! My mother likes to recall the time when I wouldn’t stop chatting in class at age 5 and my teacher, Ms. Green I believe, told me to stop “for the last time” and my reply was – “My mother is the head of the school board…and I’ll get you fired!”. Needless to say, the teacher still had a job, although I barely had a behind left!

Fast forward 25+ years and view my son. Don’t let those smiley smiley baby pictures fool you – when this one wants his way, its GONNA happen. My brother use to like to use the word “willful” when describing how headstrong his little ones could be. I never agreed until now.

Exhibit A: Cabinets
Most recently, Roman’s cruising has led him to a fascination with cabinet doors, gates, drawers – pretty much anything that can swing or slide open. Once we figured this out, Maurice baby proofed the necessary places, primarily in the kitchen where access to cabinets could really lead to trouble. The first morning Roman found out his favorite toys had been grounded, he was initially frustrated…and then willfully motivated. He tugged so hard on the TV console cabinet doors that he completely bypassed the latch system. Not sure how – but after 3 well-timed tugs, he was face to face with a booty of CDs and DVDs. And to my yelling, he replied with a smug smile of success

Exhibit B: Bathtime
Bathtime antics have been in play since Roman was able to sit up by himself. My mother can tell you about how it took her AND my Dad to bath him because his fascination with the faucet meant that he would never sit – he just clung to the faucet for dear life. In the end, we just started bathing him while standing up to avoid the fight. But recently, I tried to reason with my son by explaining why grabbing onto a faucet a few inches higher than he could reach was a bad idea. His response? After wiggling out of my arms and lunging at the faucet, he stood to his feet triumphantly…and peed in the water. He almost looked like a little statuette there, I swear.

Exhibit C: Bedtime
Roman wasn’t always a good sleeper, but once he weaned himself from breastfeeding, we pretty much got through the night with only a day or two of evening waking that was serious. We could let him whimper out in his sleep most nights, even cry aloud sometimes. But now, Roman has a voice to accompany that cry. And its LOUD. After putting him down for bed last night, awake but sleepy as is most nights, I patted his back for a minute or two before I headed out. Before I could make the door, he was on his feet in the crib, shouting at me. And no, I’m not exaggerating. He was SHOUTING! Think of it like this – if he knew curse words, that would be what he would have used. When I proceeded to still walk out, he continued his catcalls/crying/cursing, intermittently mixed with moments of rest. I cracked the door after a few minutes and found my willful son sitting in the middle of the crib, back to the door, wailing like a wolf at the moon…followed by him feverently waving and clapping his hands. It took all I had not to crack up and blow my sneaking out.

Often after his “expressions”, I call or talk to my mom and remark how deliberate he is. How he will be a terror at 2, I just know it. She typically shuts me up with comments like “and you think you were a saint?”

And she’s right. Parenthood can be like a time machine – taking you back to places and times of your past, places you may or may not recall. You see in your child a lot of what your parents saw in you – good or bad. And you revel in the good…and say penance for the bad.

For me, I only got a few minutes of wallowing in unsubstantiated fears about what future years will be like with the willful wonder before my mom finishes her statement. “you were a handful, alright. But you turned out just fine”.

So for all my moms out there who are going through rough spots with your kids – terrible twos, tens or teens – remember…you really did turn out just fine now, didn’t you?