Usually, the division of labor in our house is fairly even when my husband is home. Our son tends to prefer me (except for teeth brushing, which apparently Daddy does better…) while our daughter is a full-on Daddy’s girl.
Tonight, however, I became the default parent. This is not a criticism of anything my husband did (or didn’t do), rather, a statement of fact. For whatever reason tonight, mommy was the only acceptable helper/caregiver/playmate/soother for both children.
Part of me found it a little ridiculous. I mean, seriously, could I just have one of them wanting me at a time?
Part of me, on the other hand, loved it.
I know children have favorites from time to time, but I’ve felt bad about the fact that I’m not my daughter’s.
I know this is ridiculous because I would hate for my husband to feel badly for the times where he wasn’t our son’s favorite, but I can’t help it.
Part of me wonders if we haven’t bonded well enough. If the time I spent afraid to hold her and the time I spent away getting treatment has caused her not to love me as much as she otherwise would.
I know this is an irrational belief.
I know that after my husband (and possibly my son), I am her favorite person. It’s not as though she cries when I’m around. I get plenty of sparkle and my fair share of joyful smiles from her.
I still want to be the favorite…
…even though it isn’t fair to my husband.
…even though being the favorite is a hell of a lot more work
…even though I’m (mostly) sure I’m a good mom either way
…even though I know she loves me.
…even though I’m already my son’s favorite
I want to be her favorite. I want to know that the time I missed out on won’t affect our relationship forever.
Rationally, I know it didn’t. She’s a perfectly happy, healthy, almost 6-month-old delight.
Emotionally, on the other hand, I long for her. I worry about being mom enough for her. I second-guess myself and I hate feeling that way.
…so tonight I’m soaking up the goodness of being her favorite, for however long that lasts and praying for the strength to not second-guess myself when I’m not.
I’m feeling so very blessed. Tired, overstimulated, touched out, but blessed.