I have come to the conclusion that my son is a miniature man. Yes, you read it right, a man. Only a man can scream out, "I can fix it!" or "Be quiet", and have allergies to chores. This was not an easy conclusion to come to, as I am big on babying and complete royal treatment. I regret my complaining during the days of scheduled nap times, feedings, and diaper changing. Consider me a person who's learned their lesson; from now and on, insha allah, I will not complain about temper tantrums, fall outs, name calling, spontaneous out burst of giggles, constant practical jokes, furniture climbing, free falling, forgetting to wipe, sarcastic comments, snack cabinet bandits, important document tearing, etc. I guess you get the point; way too many to name.
I will no longer complain about these things because I have come to learn that with each stage of life, there are new quirks to get use to, quirks that make me happy with my quirks now. As they get older, they move further away from your grasp and in some ways, although you shouldn't, you feel betrayed. You want them to always cry for mommy with a certain distrust for the world that keeps them always by your side. As the years roll by, complete abandonment seems imminent, and after a while you're just buying time. Around this same time, confusion sets in; lessons must be learned, but your "mommy thoughts" tell you that learning lessons are dangerous.
Your job has been, thus far, to protect them from the world, and you are now thrown into a nightmare that your protection is no longer wanted. Only you can understand that you are still needed and is still an asset in their lives. Well, I understand; I am no longer allowed to walk beside them, holding their hand, I am only allowed to walk behind them, and catch them when they fall. But for now, I will bask in my "opportunity" to walk beside them and hold their hand. (sometimes)
The training wheels are off, I am still allowed to hold on to the seat.