I remember always wanting to be a mother. I loved my mom and the job she did with her five children. I anticipated my own motherhood.
My first babysitting job started when I was eight years old, for 60 cents an hour (1969). The family across the street from our house had two 2 year old boys, 9 months apart. My mom coached me beforehand to give the boys a bath, put them to bed, wash the dishes, and vacuum or sweep. I appreciate my mom's advice. That kept me in high demand as a sitter. Which, in turn, kept me busy with plenty of babies and kids.
I finally had a child of my own in 1989,.... for keeps!
I was the perfect mother, so I thought, to my first child, Rob. He was precocious, smart, friendly, and obedient. He crawled, walked, talked, and potty trained right on schedule. His brother, Louis, was born when Rob was 3 1/2.
As the months went by, I realized just how imperfect a mother I was. Louis didn't talk until he was well over two years old. He was listening all that time, though; because he started right off speaking in sentences! He refused to start potty training until he was three years old.
Louis couldn't believe me enough to just do what he was told. He had to test everything. I told him the stove burner was hot,.... he touched it. I told him to hold my hand while at the airport. I explained that there might be a person in the building who would take him away. He stepped away from me, studied the crowds, and exclaimed loudly, "Mom, none of these people are taking me."
Thankfully, Louis adored Rob. He'd do whatever his big brother asked him to. When I needed a nap, I'd ask Rob to stay awake with his brother in their room. When it was time to get ready for bed, Rob would lead the routine.
I've discovered so many more imperfections in my self and my "perfect" motherhood since those early years. I know so much more now; yet, I have so much more to learn.
