Parenting My Inner Parent (Pt 1)

I'll probably have a few things to say about parenting before I stop writing entirely, so consider this just a start.

Make no mistake about it, I love the kids I got to raise/help raise. There are a few of them. Three I birthed, two were gifted to me by marriage, and a few chose me to mom them a bit here and there in addition to the mothering they got from their own mommas. I love them each--but so very differently. This used to bother me as I was raised around sayings like, "I love all my kids the same," and "I don't love any kid more than any other," and "I have a favorite, but I'm not supposed to."

I remember the first time I babysat. I was nine (which now makes me cringe). There were five children for whom I was responsible--all of them 7 and under. They lived in the boonies, and it was nighttime. I remember this better than I recall what I ate for breakfast this morning...I was scared to death. For the first time, I felt the weight of responsibility for securing the safety of another person (five of them), and I realized the powerlessness I had over any other human being. Part of my job was to put 4 of the five to bed with a brief but unique set of instructions to follow for each child. In addition to fear, responsibility, and powerlessness, I felt a strange sense of just how complicated parenthood was. My babysitting days and nights were many and grew into my early adult years of long stints of caring for my nieces and nephews. In these stretches I experienced more of the everyday tasks of parenthood (taxiing kids to their regularly scheduled events, cooking meals that were sometimes disliked, patching up skinned knees, and snuggling fever-sweating "I don't feel good" kids with the flu) complete with sleepless nights followed by long work days.

Fast forward about another few years to my first foray with my two step-lovelies of 4 and 6. We picked them up just a few days after our wedding day and took them on a whirlwind trip to Disneyland and Sea World--driving a couple thousand miles in a small car to do so. Within minutes of leaving the realities of parenting leaped out as they took turns vomiting fries and a burger across the back seat and later a frozen yogurt into the Big Gulp cup (I learn fast!). That trip was followed by a three months of daily life with chore charts and stickers, swimming lessons, cooking, cleaning, snuggles, book reading, and working through prep books for the next year's schooling.

A couple of years later I carried/birthed our next child and two years later another. Holy Toledo, Batman, there's a whole additional level of parenting--creating a child in your body (or going through the process of getting a child into one's home via adoption/gestational carrier/other). It's hard work! And then another 11 years and I get to do it again with our last surprise "menopause baby." Let's add in those kids who choose to get some additional mothering on top of their own mothers...because they count here, too! And each child, despite having similar base needs, has had needs, wants, challenges, successes, and belly flops all their unique own.

While it is joyous to recall every bit of these early days as a parent, I do have a point to make about it all. It is this--I do not love all of my kids the same. I love each one so very uniquely. I do have a favorite...in fact, I have three favorites I birthed, two I got by marriage, and another 2-3 when they chose me. They are all my favorites for such different reasons all of the time. So many different characteristics of my own are challenged by each child uniquely. Each child brings such immense joy and goodness--but so very differently from the others. Each child struggles in some way. Each soars in others. Where one is enjoyable, another is frustrating while these roles reverse moments later. For me, the challenge as a parent is in growing the parts of me that can SEE these uniquenesses, weather the rough patches as gracefully and lovingly as I can, celebrate the moments of growth and success, snuggle then problem-solve the bike wrecks and heart breaks fitting every unique time, and meet each kid in each moment right where they need to be met.

Our oldest is turning 40 this year. You'd think I'd have this parenting down by now...and I don't. But I am pretty darned sure that loving each of these beautiful humans uniquely the best I can as they need to be loved is one very big part of being a totally good enough parent.