The Chosen One

A few years ago I wrote about a tough time for me, when Liv went through a stage in which she strongly preferred Hubs over me. It broke my heart, was a hit to my ego, made me question my value as a mama. At the time, being in it, I felt bad about myself, and bad for myself. I was embarrassed when bystanders witnessed Liv's inclination for Hubs. It felt like it would go on forever. Like all phases of parenthood, things changed. I am Liv's person, of course. Hubs is also Liv's person. Liv is her own person for goodness sake. She teases us, "Mommy guess who my favorite person is?" Sometimes it's me. Sometimes it's Hubs. Sometimes it's little Mia.

Now, with Mia, I am experiencing the flip side of the whole preferred parent ordeal. I am the chosen parent. On our recent family vacation to Nantucket, Mia only wanted me. I was the one, every single time, to buckle her carseat, take her from the car, carry her, hold her, take her potty, did I mention hold her? Everywhere, on cobblestone streets, lumpy beaches. She's not light. Mia is the yummiest, most perfectly chunky three year old.

And then Liv wanted me, too. So the girls fought over me. This all felt great for my ego, not so much for my physical and emotional well-being. I was (am) exhausted. The girls' neediness for me pulls at my heartstrings, not to mention my actual limbs. And then I feel guilty. Why can't I give more?

As with the first preferred parent experience, this too shall pass. In the meantime, at least my arm muscles are getting stronger...

AES