Playing Favourites
You've probably always suspected it, but chances are, if you ask, your mom or dad will give you the standard, "I love all my kids equally" speech.
I think when you're not the favourite of the family, it's easier to pick up on than if you were.
I told the best friend I'd swing by after lunch today to visit her and the new little one.
We haven't been as close as we used to be ever since she got married and had her first kid.
In some ways, it wasn't all that unexpected that we drifted apart --- our lives were totally different now. We weren't two 12-year-olds in grade school anymore, obsessing over boys and bitching about stupid things that, in the grand scheme of things, don't really matter. And despite our fervent belief that we'd always stay close friends, we simply weren't travelling on the same path anymore.
She had a family to deal with now and marriage and parenthood wasn't what she'd expected it to be.
Me, on the other hand?
I was mildly disappointed to discover I could actually relate to Bridget Jones of all people.
You get out of school and you somehow think that things are supposed to be better somehow --- the career thing wasn't supposed to be so hard to launch and finding the person you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with isn't supposed to look some desperate race against time as you feel your ovaries begin to shrivel up and every single guy you're set up with looks like a first cousin of the Elephant Man.
But I digress.
The best friend was happy to see me --- she said she was starved for someone to talk to. And it was so easy to fall back into the way things were before our paths diverged and we started travelling down different roads.
The baby was divine --- but I suppose I'm obligated to say that because she's my best friend.
His light, coffee coloured skin was so smooth and I breathed in that sweet baby smell that made me feel this weird sense of awe. As I traced my finger over his smooth, pristine little cheek, I thought about how his whole life was stretched out ahead of him, with all these ups and downs to experience.
The best friend said that her parents have mostly been doting on her older son, barely paying any attention to the newborn.
She says her mother's always been the type to play favourites and she worries that the little one's going to grow up feeling the way that she did: less important and less loved.
She told me that before I arrived, she asked her mother, "Why do you do this? Why do you always have to have one person that you love more? You had your favourite child --- and now you have your favourite grandchild."
Her mother protested, "No. That's not true at all. I love all of you equally. Your brother was my favourite son, but you're my favourite daughter." (There was only the two of them.)
The best friend shook her head. "Say what you want, but you had a favourite child."
I remember talking about this with my friend, the Social Worker. She said that she always knew she was the favourite in the family and that there was this one time when she was out with her brother and a group of friends and they were all talking about family favourites, too.
"Well, you know mom and dad loved me best," she told her brother jokingly.
Her brother gave her this look and cleared his throat.
"Yes. I know," he said quietly.
And she said that, in that instant, she felt bad and she could only begin to guess at how he felt about the whole thing.
I think it's pretty easy to pick out who's the favourite in the family --- it's the child that the parent talks about the most.
With my mom, I actually know that it's me.
Being the favourite, though, isn't as great as it seems. You have this weird, crazy, intense relationship with your parents where everything seems to mean so much more --- every comment, every remark, every word.
I have no doubt that my parents all love us, but I think there are different kinds of love.
Sometimes, I think the "favourite" of the family is simply the kid who finds it easiest to stay close to the parent.
Or at least that's what I think it is.
I think when you're not the favourite of the family, it's easier to pick up on than if you were.
I told the best friend I'd swing by after lunch today to visit her and the new little one.
We haven't been as close as we used to be ever since she got married and had her first kid.
In some ways, it wasn't all that unexpected that we drifted apart --- our lives were totally different now. We weren't two 12-year-olds in grade school anymore, obsessing over boys and bitching about stupid things that, in the grand scheme of things, don't really matter. And despite our fervent belief that we'd always stay close friends, we simply weren't travelling on the same path anymore.
She had a family to deal with now and marriage and parenthood wasn't what she'd expected it to be.
Me, on the other hand?
I was mildly disappointed to discover I could actually relate to Bridget Jones of all people.
You get out of school and you somehow think that things are supposed to be better somehow --- the career thing wasn't supposed to be so hard to launch and finding the person you're supposed to spend the rest of your life with isn't supposed to look some desperate race against time as you feel your ovaries begin to shrivel up and every single guy you're set up with looks like a first cousin of the Elephant Man.
But I digress.
The best friend was happy to see me --- she said she was starved for someone to talk to. And it was so easy to fall back into the way things were before our paths diverged and we started travelling down different roads.
The baby was divine --- but I suppose I'm obligated to say that because she's my best friend.
His light, coffee coloured skin was so smooth and I breathed in that sweet baby smell that made me feel this weird sense of awe. As I traced my finger over his smooth, pristine little cheek, I thought about how his whole life was stretched out ahead of him, with all these ups and downs to experience.
The best friend said that her parents have mostly been doting on her older son, barely paying any attention to the newborn.
She says her mother's always been the type to play favourites and she worries that the little one's going to grow up feeling the way that she did: less important and less loved.
She told me that before I arrived, she asked her mother, "Why do you do this? Why do you always have to have one person that you love more? You had your favourite child --- and now you have your favourite grandchild."
Her mother protested, "No. That's not true at all. I love all of you equally. Your brother was my favourite son, but you're my favourite daughter." (There was only the two of them.)
The best friend shook her head. "Say what you want, but you had a favourite child."
I remember talking about this with my friend, the Social Worker. She said that she always knew she was the favourite in the family and that there was this one time when she was out with her brother and a group of friends and they were all talking about family favourites, too.
"Well, you know mom and dad loved me best," she told her brother jokingly.
Her brother gave her this look and cleared his throat.
"Yes. I know," he said quietly.
And she said that, in that instant, she felt bad and she could only begin to guess at how he felt about the whole thing.
I think it's pretty easy to pick out who's the favourite in the family --- it's the child that the parent talks about the most.
With my mom, I actually know that it's me.
Being the favourite, though, isn't as great as it seems. You have this weird, crazy, intense relationship with your parents where everything seems to mean so much more --- every comment, every remark, every word.
I have no doubt that my parents all love us, but I think there are different kinds of love.
Sometimes, I think the "favourite" of the family is simply the kid who finds it easiest to stay close to the parent.
Or at least that's what I think it is.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home