Like Mother Like Son

Sam has developed a bad habit of picking his bottom lip. He's actually been doing it for awhile but only recently has it become a problem because, first of all, it's raw most of the time, and secondly, it's a true habit. He does it when he's nervous, bored, anxious. Bryon and I are on him about it a lot. And although it makes him stop for a minute or two, we've had no long-term effect.

And then yesterday, while I was furiously picking my fingernails and asking Sam to stop pulling his lip, I realized how alike we are. And how so many of those similarities are what I bug him about incessantly.

Like the fingernails. Right now, coming off a stressful, funk of a winter, my fingernails are all so shabby and raw, it sometimes hurts to type on the computer.

And just the other day Sam was starting his homework at the same time Jake found Kung Fu Panda on TV. I could NOT pull Sam away from that movie. He has seen it 50 times. We have it on DVD. I reminded him he could watch it at any time, but he could not turn away. And then yesterday I found myself sitting on the couch in my coat, keys in hand, watching Fight Club. I have seen it more than a few times. I know how it ends. I know the dialogue but I couldn't even stop watching long enough to take off my coat or throw my keys in the bowl.

I can't recall how many times we have left the toy store with a new toy that had to be opened in the car. Usually a toy with a hundred small pieces. But again, there have been many, MANY times I have driven away from Target using my knee to steer so I can try on a new lipstick or flip through a newly purchased magazine or take just one more look at that new shirt.

Having kids can be like looking at yourself in the mirror. These days, I get a lot of laughs at what I see.