In my last post, I received what I took to be veiled criticism. I could have interpreted it wrong, but that’s how it seemed to me. Turns out a reader couldn’t remember my second son’s name (Parker, by the way) because all I do is write about Payton, Payton, Payton.
And what’s worse? I make Parker wear hand-me-downs too.
But I couldn’t have taken the comment as a form of criticism if I didn’t think there was some truth in it. Stack up all the blog posts about my first son, compare them to ones about my second, and I know without being told who would have more.
(But who have I taken more photos of? Not the first!)
Let’s face it, what fun would motherhood be without all the guilt and neurosis? How would I know when to stop and smell my motherly perfection if I didn’t have the guilt to alert me to the manure?
Poor Heather, feeling guilty because she wonders if she isn’t giving her SECOND child the same amount of attention as the first. She’s probably the only mother in the world with this problem!
No, I don’t write as many posts about Parker. There are two reasons for this: Part of my “blog niche” is writing about the realities of raising an out-of-the-box child, and also because Parker doesn’t drive me fucking insane the way Payton does and I don’t need the therapeutic outlet.
Do you know what that means? It could mean, despite the imbalance of dedicated blog posts, it is entirely possible Parker is the favored child because he’s easier to raise.
Maybe that should be a blog post in itself – a reflective entry on those god-awful years when I found myself wishing I’d had two Parkers and not a Payton, including the times I actually wondered if I loved Parker more because Payton fought me at every single turn, ALL THE GODDAMN TIME, and Parker was/is just so easy and wonderful. He’s so wonderful that God Itself reached down and snatched Robert Redford’s eyes straight from his head and gave them to Parker.
But would that post go in the Payton column or the Parker column?
Or maybe I should write about how much Parker loved to cuddle with me as a toddler, how he’d run to me when he was hurt and my hugs and kisses would make all things so right in the world that, in his eyes, I could end all world wars just by the kiss of my lips. I should mention in that potential post how deeply I cherished those times with him because I didn’t get that the first time. My first child ran away from me when hurt and screamed even harder if I tried to comfort him, as if my hugs were some terrible torture technique I’d made up just to cause him more pain.
(Note to self: Don’t forget to write how my first son is about as cuddlesome as a stick of wood!)
But, there I go again, would that post go in the Payton column or the Parker column?
I’m probably screwed in the tally mark department no matter what.
Every mother wonders if she gives each of her kids equal amounts of love and attention. Add in a child with special needs, a mother wonders even more so. Shit, you don’t even have to have a child with special needs, just one that requires more hands-on parenting and you’ll wonder.
Ahhh, the wonderful mental masturbation game that is parenthood!
Nope, I don’t write as much about my second son and there’s another possible reason why.
Maybe when I’m with my second son, I’m too busy being in the moment, immersing myself in these totally typical mothering moments I’ve missed the first time around, to be composing blog posts in my head.
P.S. It could also be I just don’t give as much of a shit about blogging after 2+ years. But the previous reason sounds much more Oprah-ish and holier than thou.
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Ah I could have written this but switched the age order. My first is by far much much easier then my second. My second has me cracking a beer open by 10am. Everything comes easy for my first. He decided one day not to wear diapers and did. he decided one day he was done with training wheels and was. My second is stubborn and will only do things on his accord. Sometimes I find myself wishing they were the same and the guilt rushes over me. Not much of a point I just wanted to tell you that your post it home for me and I “get it”
I always get crap from a person IRL who thinks my middle son is always left out. LIttle does she know what goes on behind the scenes (a.k.a. when she’s not there) the snuggling, the dancing, the special whispers.
Sometimes it really gets to me but I know what the truth is and try to remind myself of that when the hurtful words are spoken.
i have 2 girls – 1 (my first ) is out of the box and my second is NOT. and yes most of my venting will be about my first b/c dealing with a child who is out of the box is very difficult and one way that helps me deal is spewing about it.
I have often wondered if I love my son more than my daughter. In my head, of course, because who needs someone telling me what a horrible mother I am when I can do that myself.
It is true, though. My daughter is more challenging than my son, at this point, anyway. We seem to clash a lot and it is hard to love someone when they are screaming at you about how mean you are, never let them do anything or challenges everything you say. *sigh* It is much easier to love the one who runs to you for out of the blue hugs and says he misses you when you are gone.
I, also, question about equality when it comes to multiple children. How can you love someone just like someone else when they are so different? Don’t we just love them and accept that sometimes it is easier than others, but there is still love for everyone?
That’s one thing I worry about while we are planning to have a second child. Will I ever be able to love another child as I do my daughter now. I would like to think so……
You’ve heard this before I think – the “what about Parker” thing? I guess to me it’s clear that your blog is a niche, and Payton makes it so. But everyone’s a critic, eh?
My MIL sends out “all family” emails related to significant life events: So and So is pregnant again! So and so got a promotion! So and so is on CNN tonight, please watch! Etc…
We are NEVER the subject of these emails. Preggers? no email. Husband bought a second practice and he now has a business with 2 locations? no email. I got promoted and became Chief Blah-de-Blah Officer at work? no email.
My husband wisely says to be thankful. The others have negative drama – struggling marriages, lifestyle/money issues, childrearing decisions that are bizarre, etc… and they are the focus of the family gossip and good news emails. We are boring. We are happy, we can afford our lifestyle, we don’t have “issues.” (Well, nothing major.)
So he says beware the Family Email. It means you are on the radar screen, that things are not quite right, and it’s a bad sign.
I know you are glad you don’t have to post about Parker. It’s a good sign.
I never once thought “Wow she doesn’t love Parker as much as she loves Payton” I also have always taken your blog as your outlet with your out of the box child. But now that I know you also make Parker wear hand me downs….well I don’t know. *wink*
Thank you for saying it. Because, yes, event though it’s not politically correct, I think we all have an “easy” child and a “hard” child (or more than one of each). And I think we all have those thoughts. Thanks for making it ok. I hate that you feel like you needed to say it though. Don’t let someone make you feel like you have to explain yourself.
Just wrote about this today – how we need to be more In the Moment.
such a perfect post and a perfect photo.
Being in the moment is the key. and the hardest thing to do.
What a cute photo. I respect your honesty in this post. Kids are all different and I get a lot of flak from my husband (!!!) about how I treat them different. What works for one doesn’t work for the other. Sometimes I feel in sync with one and not the others or vice versa.
he’ll need something to talk about in therapy right?
I write more about my youngest, because he’s louder. He gives me more to write about. My oldest is quiet, peaceful, we have deep talks that he wouldn’t want me to share with the bloggy world. My youngest gives me fart jokes and funny hair styles and games.
My oldest and I are so in sync, it can be scary. If you came over when just he & I were at home, you wouldn’t know any one was here. We’re just… quiet. It’s a nice quiet. My youngest has taught me SO much – the joys of being loud, and how it is not just OK, but VITAL to be contrary sometimes. It was through him I learned that I wasn’t a compliant child (I always thought I had been), I just had any rebellion beaten out of me. I rebelled in ways that ultimately hurt ME – “I’ll show you whose boss of me by using these drugs!” He’s shown me the joy of allowing rebellion, of parenting in a way that allows him to be himself, even if sometimes he’s not so… socially acceptable. Hopefully, he won’t need to hurt himself to prove who’s the boss of him: he is.
My oldest showed me how to have a love so deep it hurts. It’s hard to write about stuff with him because it hits so deep down.
Equally loved for who they are, not equally represented on my blog. I never doubted the same with you.
So it’s wrong to compose blog posts in ones head? Shit.