Gene Karma

There are lots of differences between me and my little boy. I’ve already mentioned that’s he cool, and clever and most glaringly he doesn’t seem to like shoes. Whereas I don’t think there are enough days in the week to wear all the shoes I’d like to, Xavier tries to not wear shoes at all. He takes them off, he tries to lose them, and I’m pretty sure he hides them as well. Not like his mother at all.

And as much as I adore my child, there are times (I know this might come as a surprise to every parent out there), that he tries me somewhat. There are days when my patience, which isn’t great at the best of times, is severely tested, and although I feel guilty thinking it, let alone typing it, I long for bedtime (his and mine).

He is incredibly strong willed. If he really wants something then God help me. When I tell him off he either ignores me, throws a tantrum or looks at me as if I was the devil. Whichever it always serves to make me feel bad.

His tantrums are quite amusing sometimes. He literally throws himself on the floor, kicking his legs and making some kind of wailing noise which makes me wonder briefly if he is having a spiritual encounter. But no, it’s his way of trying to convince me of his utter distress. He’s such a drama queen.

And boy he is stubborn. For example, he will go to the fridge and take something out, I’ll put it back, he’ll go back and take it out, and so on. This game can run and run until someone breaks. Invariably it’s me. I’m getting no prizes for endurance. My toddler, however, could win a gold medal.

Sometimes, after his afternoon nap he often wakes up whinging. It’s such a horrible noise, normally only stopped by resorting to CBeebies, which then makes me want to whinge but of course I try to pacify him, because of the endurance thing again. Of course he’s not like this when he wakes at six in the morning or earlier, oh no then it’s all jazz hands and singing at the top of his voice, but his post nap grumps are something to behold.

Finally he is very good at using the word ‘no,’ but when I use it to him he has mastered a look of total miscomprehension. There are days when it feels like the only word I say is ‘no.’

Now before you think I’m having a big moan, I will say that most of the time I find my son totally adorable, and  most of my complaints are pretty standard among parents of toddlers I’m sure.

After a particularly difficult day, my mother phoned.

‘What was I like as a child?’ I asked her.

‘You were lovely,’ she replied.

‘So I didn’t give you much of a hard time?’ I was feeling a little smug.

‘Well you were strong-willed, and your tantrums were legendary and God help us if you didn’t get your own way.’

‘Not always lovely then?’

‘Oh and you were so stubborn. Impatient. And bossy-‘

‘OK Mum, I get the picture. Actually Xavier is like me then.’

‘Oh no, he’s much better behaved.’ Well Grandmothers are bound to say that aren’t they?

When I thought about it I realised that in many ways, my son was like me; and I couldn’t help but wonder if Gene Karma existed. I was difficult to my mother; my child difficult to me. Great. That should teach me to have been a delightful, pliable child. What worries me is that as far as my mother is concerned I might not have changed too much.

My child is far from a monster. He is pretty well behaved most of the time and a joy to be around but when he does play up you definitely know about it. Just like his mother. As I couldn’t go back in time and fix it I wondered how it would develop as he got older. Thankfully I was well behaved at school.

I decided to think about the good sides of genetic karma. We are also similar in many lovely ways. Xavier is very funny and I like to think I am funny sometimes. He is also very loving when he wants to be, he’s pretty smart he is just the most gorgeous child ever (ha, just like me).

However, it seemed that in my ponderings of gene karma I had unleashed a monster. My mother and everyone else who knew me as a child, now felt it appropriate to bring up all my childhood faults. How I would never sleep and there was no way of getting me to bed on time. How I had most of the family wrapped round my little finger because they didn’t want to have to endure my horrid and long running tantrums. How I was incredibly bossy and a little manipulator. The list went on and on and on.

After a long think about how my boy’s difficult behaviour was perhaps payback, I had to concede that it wasn’t. There was no way that genetic karma was in play here or my parental life would be much harder. I shudder to think about it.

In actual fact it seems that I’ve got off pretty lightly.