Parenting Insights
Updated: Jan. 19, 2023
Originally Published: March 26, 2009
Let me start by clarifying: I adore my son, and my love for him is just as deep as my love for my daughter.
I cherished my pregnancy, carrying my little one with me everywhere, feeling him kick and dreaming about the person he would become. From the moment he was born, I was convinced that no parent could love their child more than I loved Alex. In fact, for the first three years, we were inseparable—literally. I was that mom who couldn’t sneak off to the restroom during music class or chat with other parents at playdates. Alex was either in my arms or clinging to my leg, and he would scream if his dad tried to tuck him in without me. While I loved our time together, I occasionally longed for just five minutes of solitude.
Then, three years and a few months later, my daughter, Lily, came along. Fast forward seven years, and I find it hard to claim I love them equally. Sure, that’s the politically correct thing to assert, but what does it even mean? They are both unique, and my love for each of them is distinct yet equally significant in its own way.
As a baby, I would shower Alex with kisses from head to toe, which he adored. Now, at ten and a half, the only time I can get a hug or kiss is at bedtime. The sweet boy who once cried over disappointing us now debates everything and anything, often responding with grunts and eye rolls. Tasks often require multiple reminders, and I feel like I’m constantly nagging him, which feels exhausting for both of us. I miss him during the day, yet I find myself wanting to send him to his room after just a few minutes of being home! He can be moody and frustratingly self-centered, expecting everything to revolve around him. Welcome to the reality of being ten—it’s not always pretty.
Connecting with him has become challenging; our conversations often fizzle out after the usual “how was school?” exchange. Alex loves sports, but I struggle to follow his excitement about trades or his fantasy football team. He enjoys chess and piano, two areas where I lack expertise, so when I watch him compete, my only advice is “take your time”—even I can’t believe how insufficient that sounds.
The reality is, I see so much of myself in Alex. I feel his sadness, rejoice in his successes, and admire the kind, thoughtful young man he’s becoming. I proudly watch him lead his sports teams with heart and integrity. I attend every game and miss him when he’s not around. We share traditions, like our weekend top 40 countdown, and we enjoy board games and special books together.
But despite this, he feels that my affection for Lily overshadows what I give him, and I understand why. It’s because I naturally gravitate toward Lily—she makes it easy. At seven, she is in her element. I recognize this is a prelude to the teenage years, but I’m happy to enjoy this sweetness while it lasts. Lily is enthusiastic, helpful, and kind. For breakfast, she’ll ask for her favorite cereal alongside “huggies and kissies.” She loves to help out with chores and enjoys baking and arts and crafts, activities we both bond over. During dinner, she genuinely asks about my day, which I’m sure makes Alex aware of the joy I derive from her interest.
Lily has an endless capacity for affection, leaving room for the love I want to give Alex, even if he’s reluctant to receive it. She’s funny, entertaining, and easy to spend time with—there’s never a dull moment. We share similar interests, and there’s no conflict over electronics, making our time together seamless.
Last night, Alex expressed his belief that I love Lily more—a statement that hit home. He’s perceptive, often wiser than his years, and I used to think he understood the difference between affection and love. Here’s where I’ve fallen short.
While he may be wise, understanding the complexities of love and validation is not as simple as remembering sports statistics. At ten and a half, he’s not equipped to navigate these feelings. I need to find ways to express the abundance of love I have for him. I can embrace his need for affection at bedtime, and make a conscious effort to connect with him in ways that resonate with him. Perhaps I’ll even surprise him with some interesting news from the back of the NY Post at breakfast tomorrow!
In closing, I love my children, each in their own unique way, even if the expressions of that love vary.