Baby boys and their mamas
It’s not that I think my mom loved my brother more. And it’s not that because he’s gone I see their bond romanticized in some way. It’s not because he needed her a bit more because of his asthma. It’s not because I think he was her favorite. Moms don’t have favorites.
“You’re all my favorite.”
But now that I have three kids, just like my mom had. And now that I have them in a birth order that has a boy as the baby, just like my mom had. I get it.
I totally get it.
This boy, this baby boy of mine, is…something special. To be clear, my big boy is very special. He made me a mother. He challenges me every day to be the best mom I can be ;-) My girl, my princess in the middle, also special beyond her gorgeous face and lovely smile. Smart as a whip and kind as can be. I love them all with a fierceness that sometimes takes my breath away.
There is something about the last one. Your last baby. There will be no more snuggles in bed at 2 am when he stops coming in. There will be no more “mama, I wuv you” in that cute little boy voice when he starts to pronounce the words right. (And don’t we stop correcting the last one. We don’t even care when they mispronounce it. We let them keep doing it because IT”S SO CUTE). When they learn it right, it’s gone forever.
It’s the last of everything with the last one. So we hold them a little tighter. Watch them a little more intensely. Hope they stay little just a leeeeetle bit longer.
So I get it Mom, I know why you loved him a little differently than me and that’s ok. I get it.
Dad’s my favorite parent anyway, so there. I’m kidding, I love you both the same. You’re both my favorite :-)