Passing on bad habits to a child can be hard to watch

I am a nail biter and an obsessive cuticle picker. I've spent my whole life trying to rid myself of this habit - special nail polishes, therapy sessions, sitting on my hands, hot sauce. Nothing has worked. And there are a million things I know that trigger my nail biting - stress, anxiety, stress and anxiety together, which usually culminate in visits home to my family. So, I blame them too. Family is such an easy scapegoat. But the flip side of blaming your family for your failings is that the day you become someone else's family, you too have to shoulder the blame.

My daughter is also a nail biter. Even though she is only 4, I see her pick and bite when she is tired and over wrought. The first thing I did when I saw this was get upset. 'Stop biting your nails!” I yelled. Every time I saw it, I'd snap at her. The habit got worse. Finally, one day, I broke down crying. I hate my nail biting, I've fought my whole life against it. And now, here it was manifest in my daughter and I couldn't stop it in her either.

So, I stopped talking about it. I stopped snapping and yelling and trying to change her. Perhaps it was me, perhaps I was giving her anxiety and stress, or maybe this was just genetic. Perhaps one thing had led to another and sliding down her double-helix was just an honest predilection toward anxiety and worry.

The moment I stopped nagging was the moment she stopped biting. I still see her do it from time to time. But instead of nagging her now, I help her relax. I'll give her a hug. We will turn on a movie or snuggle and read a book. Or sometimes I just look the other way. Her nails have grown back now, but mine still haven't.

My son is so much like my brother sometimes, I have whiplash between the past and present. A few days ago, he became indecisive, suddenly stammering 'Um um um” when asked to pick between watching 'Curious George” or 'Mickey Mouse Clubhouse.” My brother is the same way and I texted him to tell him that his nephew, who lives hundreds of miles away had become even more like him.

He laughed. For him, his indecision is a lot like my nail biting. 'Be nice to him,” my brother cautioned. 'Give him time. If he really is anything like me, he doesn't want to screw up.”

When he texted that, I looked back on so many memories of my brother as he waffled between choices in a restaurant or about colleges. Immediately, all that past frustration melted away and all I felt was kindness.

Every parents' worst fear is that their children won't be able to overcome their limited genetic material - that all those things about themselves that they hate will be passed on in the bodies of the people we most love. But every child's best gift is the chance to redeem those qualities in their parents. I know it is not my children's job to cure me of all the ways I fail, but just by being themselves, they allow me to see myself in a better way.

' Lyz Lenz is a writer, mother of two and hater of pants. Email her at eclenz@gmail.com or find her writing at LyzLenz.com.