Every week I do a Monday Mom Confession because while we all want the very best for our children, it’s impossible to do everything right all the time. Admitting that is freeing – and it’s also encouraging to other moms in the midst of intense seasons. I’d love for you to join me – share a link to your own confession post in the comments, or just make your confession here! Let’s throw off the weight of perfection and get real around here!
It’s about to get a little deep and reflective, ladies. And I do hope you read the whole of this post because if you don’t, I fear you’ll get the complete wrong idea.
Sometimes I feel bad for my firstborn that he has a little sibling to deal with.
Let’s make one thing clear right from the start. “Feel bad” is not synonymous with “regret.” I regret nothing. If I was given the chance to do it all over again, that little one would join our family without giving it a half second’s pause. We adore her, and she completed our family. No question about that.
But with her arrival, our sweet boy got pushed to the side. Even more so, since he’s a super easy kid who doesn’t mind having to wait while we deal with his sister, I feel like he gets put off more and more and more. And initially I thought that it was just that short, intensive newborn phase that would be so demanding, but as our little one has morphed into a toddler and proven herself to be a firecracker, it seems that it just keeps happening more and more and more.
“Conlan, hang on…your sister’s screaming.”
“Ugh…I know she’s breaking your Legos but can’t you just give her some so she’ll leave you alone?”
“You can have dessert but let’s wait until your sister goes to bed…”
“What just happened here, you two? Conlan, you should have known better!”
This isn’t a statement about siblings or having a second child. In fact, the truth is that Conlan couldn’t possibly be a better big brother, and 95% of the time they are best friends. He is just as amused by his sister’s antics as we are, most of the time.
Rather, this is simply a statement about the reality of life with more than one, and how things change for the first when you add another. And it’s also a confession about my own laziness as a parent. Often I’m worn out, and while I could certainly choose to be more 1) pre-emptive or 2) responsive in those tough moments, exhaustion often wins. And it’s not necessarily physical exhaustion, since thankfully my children allow me to sleep these days. It’s just the emotional exhaustion of constant-ness and the exhaustion of having to deal with this sibling thing yet again.
And my poor, easy-going boy is the one who suffers most for it.
Perhaps this week is less of a confession and more of a call to action for myself. Or maybe it’s a little of both.
If you have more than one child, have you struggled with the same feelings? Or do you have another confession to make? Throw off the weight of perfection and join me – confess in the comments!