Each to Their Own
Blanket love. There is no such thing. There is love. It is around us, inside us, inside others, everywhere.
I love. But I don’t love everyone and everything the same. You can’t measure love and say: “I love my right big toe more than I love my left big toe.” You love them both, just in different ways.
And so it is with children.
Let me start off by saying that I was I was probably the least likely person to have children. I now have five. They have always scared me, and still do. I have always found it difficult to relate to them and to understand their logic. Like, I too would like to throw myself on the ground in the middle of isle three and have a full blown tantrum, but I just wouldn’t go ahead with it. Kids do.
Well as it turns out, the universe clearly had some special plans in store for me.
Four special creatures had chosen me to be their mother. They are my gifts to treasure and prepare for the big world out there and then wish them well on their journey. They are not my gifts to keep.
So back to my point. I love ALL of my children but I love them all in a different way. This is because each and every one of them is a different person. I have never in my life said to my children: “I love you all the same”. Cause I don’t. And I don’t lie unless it involves chocolate.
There is Forrest, the eldest, who is my step son and therefore has not chosen me as his mother but I have chosen to love him. I have been his parent for over six years and I feel that he is one of my children. At the age of 14 (nearly 15) he shits me to tears but through love we will get through this hormonal hurdle and come out on the other side.
Madison, 10, is just coming up to the hormonal hurdle so I am trying to avoid talking about that. She is my only favourite daughter. She is the reason why a couple of weeks ago I finally got validation that for the past ten and a half years I have actually been doing a good job as a parent. And being the only girl she is the only one I can teach all the cool girly shit! We have had a rough road behind us but finally, I get it.
Rahn, 5, is my favourite. Now, people say things like: “OMG you can’t have favourites!” Well, yes I fucking can. All the kids are aware of the fact and no, they don’t hold it against him. They know that it’s me not him and they are also aware that there is a possibility that one day he may stop being my favourite. There is no reason for it in particular, it’s just how I feel and I am being honest about it. You see, that way everyone knows where they stand and everyone knows that I tell the truth and can therefore be trusted and relied upon.
Phoenix, 18 months, has the cutest little throaty chuckle he does when he is running away from me and wants me to chase him.
William, 18 months, does this thing where he is looking at your eyes while you are looking at his eyes while his little hand is reaching out for the item he is not allowed to touch.
Both Phoenix and William are still very much connected with where they came from and teach me something new every day. I am blessed that because of the other three children I have learned how to be a mum and am doing the very best job I can with them.
Then of course there is my hot husband but he’s a whole other blog…
So each child is different, even the twins are different people with different personalities. I love them all but I love them differently. As they grow and develop I will treat each and every one differently, according to who they are as a person because they will all have different needs and ambitions and views.
And this makes me so happy.
The world makes me happy because it is filled with so many different people. If we were all alike and we all got along and we all liked each other it would be such a very boring place, kind of like this:
As long as there is respect and love in our lives then I think we are doing okay 🙂