Confession time.  I may have judged you, fellow parents.

I may have felt sorry for you, or worse, superior to you. It’s possible that while recapping our day, I may have said to my husband with an air of some authority, that “the X’s child does (fill in undesirable behavior here) because the X’s are too something or not enough of another, blah blah blah.....”  Obviously, we were excellent parents as evident by our daughter, aka, angel child.

And then came number two. In the beginning, he too seemed to be an angel baby. He slept well, took his multiple hospitalizations like a champ, and smiled and gurgled, oozing cuteness. But then he learned to talk. And walk. His favorite word became "NO!" Shouted at the top of his lungs, all the time.

When my daughter was small you could hand her a box of markers and tell her "don’t draw on the walls" and she wouldn’t. Ever. My son? He’d jut out his little chin in defiance and start scribbling on any wall he could find. As if to say “Bring it.” I’ve said things to him I thought I’d never have to say to another human being: “Don’t lick the bottom of shoes, train seats or windows. Don’t pee on the dog.” He is fond of repeating swear words that slip out in the car. My daughter abhors swearing and physically cringes. He is challenging—to be truthful he kicks my behind every day. You get the general idea. 

Where my daughter as a toddler was content to read, draw and try to mother everything within a 10-mile radius, my toddler son’s primary interest is destruction. If I throw this thing will it break? When it breaks will it make a cool noise? What about when I lob it at your head? 

What I’ve come to realize is that my kids are two entirely separate personalities. More importantly, they are their own persons.

My son is funny, loves to snuggle in the evenings, very sweet, artistic and social. He shows an aptitude for both music and sports. He hates being flipped upside down. He can also be stubborn and strong-willed in a way that makes me throw up my arms in despair at times.

My daughter is kind, empathetic, artistic, funny and just about the best big sister ever. She adores being flipped upside down. She’s what I’d call an old soul who excels at art, music and creative writing. She can also be anxious and too daydreamy and a bit of a perfectionist.

Learning to accept who they are, and work within their limitations to change unacceptable behavior, has been a rewarding, albeit challenging experience. While I am teaching my kids that they are responsible for their behavior, the choices they make and their consequences, I am learning some things about myself on the way. Sometimes we as parents rely on our children to fulfill some unmet and often unspoken childhood needs, and see our children as an extension of ourselves. They aren’t, nor should they be.

Having a child who knocked me off my high horse made it painfully clear that while some of what my children say and do is nurture, an awful lot is nature. I can’t really hold my parenting skills in high regard in that case.

So for all you parents whom I may have judged silently in the checkout line while your child had a 120-decibel meltdown, I am sorry. For the parents of the kid who hit my little girl and I assumed that on some level they got that behavior from you? Sorry, so very, very sorry. I am not so quick to judge anymore. In fact, I’m more likely to be breathing a silent sigh of relief, thinking— Thank God! We’re not alone.