As I drove in to work this morning the radio station I listen to was discussing a study about how second born children are 25-40% wilder than first born children, more likely to get in trouble in school and in life. I chuckled because at the surface this statement would ring true for me as a mother to a darling, sweet and shy first born little boy and a loud, mean and overbearing second born baby girl. But the more that I thought about it, the more I thought that maybe that study isn’t 100% accurate.
When I had my son I was younger, inexperienced and had absolutely no idea what to expect after birth. Would the baby sleep well, eat right, learn things at a rate like others would? How many blankets are too many blankets or not enough blankets? What temperature is ideal, what activities should I be taking him too…I could go on and on forever.
By the time I had given birth to my daughter I had been a Mother for 4 years already…I knew the answers to those questions, or so I thought. I had all of these expectations because I had already experienced a newborn and everything that came with that. But what I hadn’t expected was my second child to be so completely different than my first from the get go.
My son always slept for 12 hours but not my daughter…she LOVES the night time and always has.
My son drank from sippy cups from 6 months on but not my daughter, she is almost 2 and refuses to drink milk from anything but a baby bottle (FYI I have bought every single kind of sippy cup in creation and even tried to make some of my own, nothing works!).
My son has always stayed safe, never left my side in public, never climbed up on anything and always asks for permission. But my daughter, if you put her down in a store she is GONE (like way gone and doesn’t give a crap if you say okay bye I am leaving). She constantly climbs and puts herself in situations that make me cringe!
I could go on listing difference after difference but my point is this…maybe my second child wouldn’t seem so wild if my first one wasn’t so calm. Maybe her wildness is because my expectation of who she would be was so different than who she is. Maybe it’s just that the wild in me calls to the wild in her.
To my wild child, I love you in all your beautiful middle of the night, ice cube eating, screaming at the top of your lungs glory and I couldn’t imagine you any other way.