Unless you were an only child, or extremely confident in your childhood fabulousness, chances are at some point in time you asked your mother or father THE question. THE, "Who is your favorite?" question. That overwhelming desire to hear the words, "Of course YOU are my favorite." has lead multiple generations over countless decades to ask THAT taboo question. Taboo because a parent is not suppose to have a favorite, right? Being the fifth of five girls, I always wanted to know who was the "chosen one". After all, there was no prodigal son to stand out in the crowd and carry on the family name (although clearly with my haircut in this picture they sure wish I had been), no twins or triplets, no child with some extreme gift (sorry sisters), just five adorable (hey, it was the 70's) daughters. Since I was the baby, with an age gap spanning 10-16 years, clearly I felt I had the edge or at the very least, my mother had been beaten down enough to just answer the question I longed to hear so I would shut up. Of course, it never crossed my egocentric child mind that my mother would name one of my other sisters as "the favorite", which is clearly what I deserved to hear for even asking my poor mother to rank her love. No, I always waited for my mother's finger to point right to me or to have her bend over and secretly whisper in my ear, "You are my favorite, but don't tell your sisters". Nope, didn't happen. My mom always played it safe and gave the Switzerland answer, "I love you all the same." Foiled again. Clearly, my mother had not been beaten down enough, but I would be willing to bet she had her fingers crossed.
I remember watching a documentary on The Titanic, where they described that parents aboard the unsinkable ship may have had to choose which child should go in the lifeboat and which child should remain on the doomed ship. Back in those days, it may not have been the favorite child chosen to survive, but the child that could provide for the family, take care of the farm, etc. In other words...the boy. Can you even imagine being faced with such a choice? Of course we all say, "I could never choose. We would all go down together." because that's what you are suppose to say. That's the "right" thing to say. Well, since I'm rarely "right" and I never do what I'm supposed to, I'm just going to be AWEnest. My biggest concern, had I been on that ill fated ship, would have been that with my paralyzing fear of sharks and freezing cold water, that I would have pushed all three kids aside and jumped into that lifeboat myself. I'd like to think I'm a better mother than that, but since history has a way of repeating itself and I once went screaming for my life after seeing a snake on the playground and left my poor 18 month old daughter on said playground in the direct path of the terrifyingly, vicious garter snake , I think you should heed a sound piece of advice. If you and your children ever go on a cruise ship with me and my family, and an iceberg strikes, pick a lifeboat on the other side of the ship.
Of course it wasn't until I became a mother that I began to understand my mother's disappointing, albeit, safe answer of, "I love you all the same". It's true, I have the same amount of love for all my children, as in, I don't love one child more or less than the next, but l love them all differently because each one of my kids is so very different. When I was a child, asking my mom THE taboo question, I should have reworded the question to something like, "Which one of us girls do you like the best?" or "Who is your favorite kid....today?". Because that my friend is an entirely different ball game.
If you are AWEnest with yourself, then you know that there most certainly are times that you LIKE one child better than the other, and your kid who is having an off day, better do himself a favor and stay on dry land. Some kids are happier, some kids are pleasers, some kids just go with the flow. Other kids are high strung, other kids are whiney, other kids have no off switch. Doesn't mean you love one more than the next, just means different kid equals different needs. And some days, depending on your own needs as a parent, well, some kids are just sunk.
Although I do not have a "favorite", there are some days, some moments, that I AWEnestly like one kid best. For example, Kyle is my favorite in the summer because he unloads groceries and puts the shopping cart back regardless of how far away the cart storage thingie is from our car, or regardless if it's pouring down rain. In the meantime, the other two slackers clamor over the seats trying to find the coveted treat just purchased melting in a shopping bag. Kyle also is a smart a**, just like his mother which sometimes puts him at the top of the list and sometimes puts him at the bottom, depending on mom's mood for the day. Ryan is my favorite when I've spent a long day surrounded by people and I just want to enjoy the quiet in the car and not feel like I have to make conversation. That boy does not believe there is a place for idle chit chat in this world and sometimes Ryan's silence is heavenly. Emma is my favorite when I am sick....always checking on me, always loving and soothing me with her, "poor Mommy" and never worrying about "catching it". Emma is my born nurturer. I will most assuredly choose Emma's hometown when deciding on my nursing home. Different days, different reasons, but I love them "all the same". Well....all the same "amount".
I'm betting as one of my three kids, it doesn't always feel that way though. As I spend hours focused on Ryan and his homework yet I barely acknowledge Emma's perfect math test with a distracted, "That's great honey....Ryan please, please pay attention.". Second grade math is not pre-algebra, but it certainly deserves just as much recognition because when it has a smiley face scratch and sniff sticker on it, to Emma, it's calculus. Then there are the days when Kyle reminds me at least a dozen times that he has friends coming over to work on a group assignment and when the doorbell rings I'm freaking out that they are coming over now and my house looks like it got struck by an iceberg? "Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, and Kyle responds with daggers from his eyes, "I told you last night when you were helping Ryan with his homework." Oh, that must have been when I was on the floor praying to the homework gods for June to arrive quickly and didn't hear Kyle remind me....again.
When you have a child with an ASD or any other kind of "different ability", sometimes they tend to get more attention because their needs, in some aspects, are very different from their brothers and sisters. I don't think it's fair to say that Ryan and kids like him need the attention more than their neurotypical siblings because acknowledging Emma's math test and hearing Kyle when he tells me something is equally as important as Ryan's need for a new binder immediately because his broke and if it's not replaced his teachers may turn him to stone. The irony of all the time I spend with Ryan is that he would prefer nothing more than for me to stop nagging, I mean, helping him, and I bet this time together is not what Ryan sees as evidence of favoritism, but as a necessary evil. And sometimes I wonder if Kyle and Emma think Ryan is the favorite based on the amount of time I help Ryan with homework or the numerous times I cut him some slack because the battle fatigue just isn't worth the victory.
Then there are other moments when I wonder, if Ryan feels like Kyle and Emma are my favorites because sometimes it's just easier with them. Kyle and Emma don't have such stringent demands for certain foods, certain routines, and certain toe nail clippers. Kyle and Emma want to sit and chat about their day with me or just hang out in the same room that I am taking up space in. They tell me about their friends, what happened at lunch or on the bus on the way home. Besides what is written in Ryan's agenda or what is on his teachers' websites, I have no idea what is going on in Ryan's life and AWEnestly, that makes the quantity of time spent doing homework with him somewhat enjoyable. I may be a necessary evil for Ryan because in his words, he "sucks at English", and he needs good old mom's help, but I hope he understands that dumb mom enjoys the moments when I get a small glimpse inside his day even if that day is a battle over what purpose a metaphor has in our day to day living. I just hope that while I'm helping Ryan with homework, that Kyle and Emma aren't online looking up inappropriate web sites, dabbling in illegal substances or sneaking out the back door to vandalize the neighborhood after feeling neglected and assuming that they are wearing the "least favorite" kid title.Favoritism....we try not to have it, try not to show it, and try not to believe it exists even for a second, but sometimes as a kid, you feel your rank regardless of the "amount" of love you get.
Yep, Guilt keeps showing up again....and again....and again. It's a shame Guilt wasn't on The Titanic. Parenting is hard. Getting it right most of the time is even harder. Doing it without Guilt holding your hand and taking your spot on the life boat, is next to impossible. As a child, it was all about the numbers. Who is your number one favorite kid? Who is second? Who is last? Now, as a parent, I finally understand my mother's Switzerland answer of "I love you all the same". Love can't be measured. There is no scale, no measuring device, no yardstick....love is immeasurable regardless if you have one child or ten so you can't rank it or rate it. Whether it's a child with a different ability or not, the love a parent has for their child is as unique as the child itself and no "rank" is necessary.
The Titanic was suppose to be unsinkable...this claim was measured by the amount of planning, complexity, "high tech" features and the 70,000 tons of steel used to build it. I would imagine there were plenty of numbers and equations involved in making such an infinite claim, yet, it took one lurking iceberg not seen by the lookout, that had been left out of the equation, to sink the unsinkable. I had no lookout warning me of Autism. I didn't plan for it, I didn't ask for it, and I didn't have a lifeboat to escape to in case autism showed up, but none the less, autism has become a part of our family. Whether you are the child living with autism, the sibling, or the parent, an autism diagnosis effects us all in various ways, however, unlike the Titanic's iceberg, autism has not defined our fate. Some days, autism feels like a giant iceberg ready to pull us under, but most days, it is just a blip on the radar...nothing that makes our ship any different than the next one. And even on the choppiest days, when the waves rock our ship more so than others, I never worry about which kid is the favorite and who I should save first, because the answer is easy....who ever took out the trash the night before, gets the first life vest.
When you have a child with an ASD or any other kind of "different ability", sometimes they tend to get more attention because their needs, in some aspects, are very different from their brothers and sisters. I don't think it's fair to say that Ryan and kids like him need the attention more than their neurotypical siblings because acknowledging Emma's math test and hearing Kyle when he tells me something is equally as important as Ryan's need for a new binder immediately because his broke and if it's not replaced his teachers may turn him to stone. The irony of all the time I spend with Ryan is that he would prefer nothing more than for me to stop nagging, I mean, helping him, and I bet this time together is not what Ryan sees as evidence of favoritism, but as a necessary evil. And sometimes I wonder if Kyle and Emma think Ryan is the favorite based on the amount of time I help Ryan with homework or the numerous times I cut him some slack because the battle fatigue just isn't worth the victory.
Then there are other moments when I wonder, if Ryan feels like Kyle and Emma are my favorites because sometimes it's just easier with them. Kyle and Emma don't have such stringent demands for certain foods, certain routines, and certain toe nail clippers. Kyle and Emma want to sit and chat about their day with me or just hang out in the same room that I am taking up space in. They tell me about their friends, what happened at lunch or on the bus on the way home. Besides what is written in Ryan's agenda or what is on his teachers' websites, I have no idea what is going on in Ryan's life and AWEnestly, that makes the quantity of time spent doing homework with him somewhat enjoyable. I may be a necessary evil for Ryan because in his words, he "sucks at English", and he needs good old mom's help, but I hope he understands that dumb mom enjoys the moments when I get a small glimpse inside his day even if that day is a battle over what purpose a metaphor has in our day to day living. I just hope that while I'm helping Ryan with homework, that Kyle and Emma aren't online looking up inappropriate web sites, dabbling in illegal substances or sneaking out the back door to vandalize the neighborhood after feeling neglected and assuming that they are wearing the "least favorite" kid title.Favoritism....we try not to have it, try not to show it, and try not to believe it exists even for a second, but sometimes as a kid, you feel your rank regardless of the "amount" of love you get.
Yep, Guilt keeps showing up again....and again....and again. It's a shame Guilt wasn't on The Titanic. Parenting is hard. Getting it right most of the time is even harder. Doing it without Guilt holding your hand and taking your spot on the life boat, is next to impossible. As a child, it was all about the numbers. Who is your number one favorite kid? Who is second? Who is last? Now, as a parent, I finally understand my mother's Switzerland answer of "I love you all the same". Love can't be measured. There is no scale, no measuring device, no yardstick....love is immeasurable regardless if you have one child or ten so you can't rank it or rate it. Whether it's a child with a different ability or not, the love a parent has for their child is as unique as the child itself and no "rank" is necessary.
The Titanic was suppose to be unsinkable...this claim was measured by the amount of planning, complexity, "high tech" features and the 70,000 tons of steel used to build it. I would imagine there were plenty of numbers and equations involved in making such an infinite claim, yet, it took one lurking iceberg not seen by the lookout, that had been left out of the equation, to sink the unsinkable. I had no lookout warning me of Autism. I didn't plan for it, I didn't ask for it, and I didn't have a lifeboat to escape to in case autism showed up, but none the less, autism has become a part of our family. Whether you are the child living with autism, the sibling, or the parent, an autism diagnosis effects us all in various ways, however, unlike the Titanic's iceberg, autism has not defined our fate. Some days, autism feels like a giant iceberg ready to pull us under, but most days, it is just a blip on the radar...nothing that makes our ship any different than the next one. And even on the choppiest days, when the waves rock our ship more so than others, I never worry about which kid is the favorite and who I should save first, because the answer is easy....who ever took out the trash the night before, gets the first life vest.
Surely, I would save them first regardless of snakes or sharks, right?
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