It happened.
I got the “You love her more than me” statement from my oldest, who angrily shouted at me.
Growing up an only child, I never felt slighted by my parents. If I felt terrible, it was just plain “You don’t love me,” not that someone else had a larger place in my parent’s hearts.
I made it nine years into my motherhood journey without my love being questioned, but here I am, passionately explaining how my love is equal and enough for all three of my children.
My parenting philosophy stems back to what I learned in my early childhood education coursework.
Everyone gets what they need. That need is not always the same.
My oldest has always been happy to be with me or my husband. She’s my clone and my husband’s buddy. She has always been independent; even as a very young child, she could happily occupy herself.
My girl twin needs ME, my time, my attention, my care, my bedtime routine. She’s happiest being my shadow and will take on any domestic chore.
My boy twin is a boy; he throws balls against our walls over playing with any toy, is sensory-seeking, touches every wall, and leans on and drags his body on every piece of furniture we own. He is also sweet and intuitive about people’s feelings, asks a million questions, and dissects every situation. I purchased a soft cushion play couch for his specific use and to hopefully extend the lifetime of our couch. Why? Because that is what his body needs.
It is a non-stop juggling act to meet the needs of these three. My greatest wish is that when my children grow up, they will fondly remember their childhood. I hope they feel safe, seen, and loved.
No child is loved more than the other. I’m unsure how I can prove that or best put it into words so they understand. One day, their hearts may grow a few sizes with each child they love, and only then will they know the deepest love I have for them and the greatest joy they have added to my life.
