If our children always did what their parents wanted, we certainly would not have Chicken Baby in our home. If you haven’t met Chicken Baby, here he (it?) is:
I am uncertain who thought it would be a great, marketable idea to put a Cabbage Patch doll into a chicken costume, but there he is. And he’s aaalllllll ours!! (And by ours, I mean Tessa’s.)
Who would choose this creepy little creature as a comfort object??
We acquired Chicken Baby on one of our nine bagillion trips to Target in the last three weeks (because new house, of course). If children always did what their parents wanted, Tessa would have behaved herself on that trip, and we never would have ended up in the toy aisle, searching desperately for a soothing object that cost five dollars or less. An entire rack of cute stuffed animals were lined up in front of us and we got Chicken Baby.
I didn’t go into parenthood with many preconceived ideas of who my children would be. I assumed that we would get some extroverts, because we are. I assumed they would excel in school. I knew, before parenthood, that I could keep my girls from having a princess complex. No pink frills, no referring to the girls as princesses.
Last week at preschool graduation, Ellie was the only girl in the class who said that she wants to be “a princess” when she grows up.
So there’s that.
One of the most difficult parts of parenting for me is letting go of my desire to control the choices that my children make. They are young – we are not grappling with major life decisions here, but sometimes John lets Ellie pick out her own outfit and it makes me twitch just a little.
Or when she refuses to dress her Barbies and I continually have to encounter Awkward Barbie Moments…
(This is tame.)
It takes every fiber of my being to Let. Go. on a regular basis. It’s Type A parenting, desperately hoping to be just a little Type B, for the good of their development as independent women.
I think having Tessa has pushed me, just a little, to embrace the path that my child will follow, whatever that may be.
(OK, not whatever. Bank robbery and juvenile delinquency are off the table. As are jobs at establishments where women wear spandex shorts and push up bras.)
In any case, my own personal preference for matching clothes and markers with their caps on correct color probably seem like small potatoes, but I’m trying to use these situations as practice for the Big Ones, like choices about college and living arrangements and buying ridiculously overpriced clothing because it’s on fleek or whatever the new phrase for “cool” is at the time.
I feel as though they are going to give me lots of practice this summer. And I need it.
Because seriously, the markers.
(Somewhere across town, my mom is laughing quietly to herself, smiling and saying ‘hehehe, now she knows what I went through raising her…’ I have an insane amount of respect for that woman.)
Yo soy La Lay 
I don’t know.. I kinda think it looks more like a turkey than a chicken. I suppose that doesn’t help any, though…. lol.
Hahaha, I know! Turkey, rooster, chicken…. She signs chicken, which is how we settled on that particular type of poultry. :p
Hehehe!! You’re right! And you learned that “control” thing from the best. My children continue challenge me even now ;>