Maybe it's down to the age old theory of 'nature OR nurture' or should it be 'nature AND nurture'. I personally would argue it's a healthy balance of the latter. The former rules out any hope of growth, development or ability to change and limits us to merely accepting we are who we are thus preventing us achieving who we can be and our true potential, whatever that is.
As the youngest of three, I was constantly labelled the 'naughtiest'. It's a fair description and in some ways I was also the most adventurous and mischievous. My mother would say I was the only one who 'pushed their boundaries'. This in some part is intrinsic to my personality but it was 'their' boundaries not 'the' boundaries that were challenged therefore indicating 'nurture' played a strong role. The constant whine heard from my siblings was 'I was never allowed to do that', and it was true they weren't. My mother would concur and her defence was that by the time 'deary me, it's number three', as my Dad referred to me, came along, she had to an extent been 'worn down'.
With four children of my own I can now completely 'get' where she was coming from. Number one was a huge pressure, I felt the need to do everything right, 'by the book', as far as behaviour was concerned I didn't give her an inch. Looking back I was so busy trying to get it right I forgot at times to stop, smell the flowers and enjoy her. I took everybody and anybody's advice and had very little confidence in myself as a mother. Fortunately so far she has fared well and doesn't hold it against me.
Number two made me a little more laid back; he was a good baby which always makes life easier. By good, I mean he fed and slept well, demanded a lot of my time as all babies do, but wasn't so constant I couldn't get stuff done. Happy days, two children, a hand for each of them.
Imagine my shock and horror when I discovered number three was on the way. I can honestly say I was traumatised, and had grave concerns as to how I would cope. No one could console me with their promises of help or platitudes. For nine months I attempted to ignore the child growing inside me, unsuccessfully, as most of it was spent crying, lying on a couch clutching a bucket. He arrived the day he was due as the clock struck midnight. I was overwhelmed with joy and guilt at the same time, this beautiful perfect creation, how could I have not wanted him or doubted that I would love him? I did instantaneously, love him, that is, even though he was and still is the biggest pain in the backside of them all.
Approaching forty, my youngest was headed to school. I looked forward to more 'me' time and head space to 're evaluate' where my life was going. How wrong can you be? 'Number four, I'm out the door' was headed our way.
Number four has brought all of us the greatest joy and in some ways is the glue that holds us together. He is something different to all of us and we all have a special relationship with him.
For me I have learnt that we learn as much from our children as they do us and to a certain extent who the child is determines how we parent them. All four of them are completely different, so much so, it is difficult to believe they are even related to each other at times. I have abandoned the struggle to make them be who, I, think they should be, within reason, and celebrate their individuality.
I was recently asked by a colleague if I had a favourite. Apparently even though people are reluctant to admit this, they do have a favourite. I can honestly admit, hand on heart that I don't, they simply 'endear and irritate me' equally, in different ways.
With regard to 'attachment parenting', do you get a choice? I would say no, given that at various stages of their development, ALL of my children have been attached to me like Velcro.
Image Credit Flickr User Lauren McDonald