“Do you love Emma as much as Luke?”

I got asked this loaded question the other night, don’t worry it wasn’t from some random a-hole at the grocery store or anything, but from a friend whom basically exist no boundaries anymore…ha. It’s one of those questions that make you sit for a second and actually use your brain and think about your response (feel free to make the joke of “did it hurt?” quietly to yourself).

Instinctually, I wanted to just shout “of course, thats a stupid question…”, but I don’t think that would have been a true statement.

(I just had to pause mid-writing to change one epic up the back action from the girly one…)

"it almost went to my neck...10 points for effort"
“it almost went to my neck…10 points for effort”

Second kids, it’s a whole new experience. I know you’ve heard it all before…second kids get the shaft, second fiddle, not as much attention, hand-me-downs, yada yada yada. Being a second kid myself, it’s been interesting to witness how different we are as parents this time around.

But can I honestly say I love Emma AS MUCH as Luke? Obviously, yes. They are tiny replicas of me, WHO WOULDN’T LOVE TWO OF THEM?! YOU ARE WELCOME WORLD THAT I CREATED TWO MORE OF ME….crickets? K.

But a more accurate question to ask may be “Do you love Emma THE SAME as Luke?” That is a big fat No. Gasp, I said it. NOOOOOO.

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But that’s not a bad thing.

I don’t want to love my kids the same. My kids are different. I want to love them how they want to be loved and how I can love them. If I loved my kids the same right now, i’d be showing my love to Luke by shoving milk into his mouth every three hours instead of racing around the house pushing him on his tiny green Jeep. If I loved my kids the same I’d be feeding Emma her 150th pretzel for the day instead of swaying her to sleep at 2:30 in the morning.

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mom: dont sit on your sister Lukes response….

 

Yes, it’s true. She doesn’t get the same oogly eyed hour after hour attention that the bigger one got. She get’s snippets throughout the day when Luke is zoned out watching Paw Patrol or taking a nap or engaged in coloring small sections of the couch (true story…washable crayons my butt). But, honestly, I don’t think she cares…that’s what I tell myself at least.

I know for a fact that my mother showed love to my brother and I differently. Spending all day at a dance competition or a volleyball tournament or going shopping for extra long jeans is not something my brother would enjoy. But going to one of his many concerts or crazy weird and creative rock operas where the music is so loud it WILL burst an ear drum…is one way he knows, mama loves him.

I’m only two months into this whole “mother of 2 under 2” fiasco of utter insanity, but I’m pretty sure…both my kids know they are loved…whether it’s the same or not, ain’t nobody got time for tracking that.

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