As a child, I often found myself contemplating whether my mom had a favorite. I would wonder who my dad’s closest companion was. These thoughts led to feelings of jealousy toward my siblings, convinced they were the apple of our parents’ eyes while I was left in the shadows. When I became a parent, I promised myself I’d never play favorites. I imagined a world where each of my children felt equally cherished. But here I am, as candid as a reformed puppet, admitting: I do have a favorite child.
The child who greets the day with a smile, dresses without a fuss, and even lends a hand? That’s my favorite. The one who showers me with affection and snuggles close? Yes, that’s my favorite too. The child who is upset because their beloved toy is broken, or their feelings are hurt, is also my favorite. And the one who offers a witty remark or evokes tears of joy? That’s my favorite as well.
Whoever’s birthday it is at the moment? You guessed it; that’s my favorite too. However, the child who incessantly calls out my name? Well, they’re my least favorite at that time. The one who throws tantrums, cries uncontrollably, or engages in any form of mischief? Yes, they too fall into the least favorite category. These feelings aren’t static; they shift with the hour and day, and I won’t apologize for the ebb and flow of my affections. I can’t change how I feel, and truthfully, parenting is often about my own emotional responses.
On those rare days when everything aligns perfectly — when we’ve all had enough rest and patience — our family dynamic can be magical. But these days are like hidden gems, buried beneath layers of chaos.
Here’s the reality: Each of my children is loved deeply, and I find peace in the inconsistency of my affections. While I may sometimes feel a twinge of guilt for having a “favorite of the moment,” I recognize that my love isn’t measured by achievements or personality traits. I believe my children will experience feelings of being special, and at times, not so special, much like I did growing up.
I created these wonderful little humans to bring joy into our world, but honestly, I mostly did it for myself — to feel a profound love, to engage in meaningful experiences, and to hold a piece of divinity close to my heart. So I don’t hesitate to whisper to myself why each one becomes my favorite in those fleeting moments.
As I spin my 2-year-old during our morning dance sessions, build cities with my 4-year-old during nap time, and cuddle my baby in the quiet evening hours, I can’t help but think, “Right now, you are my favorite.”
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In summary, while I may have my favorites at different moments, each of my children is uniquely loved. The complexities of parenting reveal that love can be inconsistent yet deeply fulfilling.