But yesterday I wondered a little about the process. See, my kids are a lot like I was when I was small. Competitive, loud, and they throw temper tantrums whenever they don’t get their way. Every time my mom sees it, she laughs and says, “Gee, I wonder where they get that from.” To which I reply, “I have absolutely no idea. I certainly never acted that way.”

Now, it’s a bit of a joke because I’m so even-tempered now that one of my college professors actually said, “I’m concerned that such temperance is unhealthy in one so young.” Last night my husband asked, “So . . . what happened to that temper?”

My answer? When I was about ten, I started getting on my own nerves. It took a lot of energy to get upset over nothing, and it didn’t seem to accomplish much. So I made a concerted effort to grow up–in that respect, anyway.

Not so oddly, it’s been through having kids that are so stinkin’ much like I used to be that has sparked my temper again. I growl daily, and often think that this 2-4 age may just kick my butt–but then they cuddle up against me . . . I’m still amazed at deeply the mother-instinct runs. I mean, I remember being like my daughter, and screaming every single time I stubbed my toe. (Every. Single. Time.) But now when I thwack my elbow off the corner of a cabinet (like I did last night. Ow.), my first thought is, “Don’t scream. Don’t wake the kids. Suck it up.”

I still have those moments when I feel like a kid myself, I’m still amazed when I feel like an adult in a certain respect for the first time. And I’m finally realizing that this “growing up” thing probably never ends. There are always going to be new steps in the process . . . and as long as I realize that, I keep myself malleable for the Lord to keep on a-workin’ on me.