I Don’t Love My Kids In The Same Way

If you want to hear God laugh tell God your plan. Have you ever heard that saying? It’s one that comes back to me time and time again. As a person well into her forties now, I often look back and think about how grateful I am that I wasn’t in charge of everything. But I also wonder about the things that I kind of miss—even though they never happened. As a kid I wanted three kids. Two girls who sandwiched a boy, then after I had my oldest and I realized how cool she was I wanted her to have a sister and maybe two brothers, so they had each other. Or maybe three girls—that sounded nice too.

But, sometimes no matter how badly you want something, things turn out differently. So I am the mom of two amazing young women, 19 and 14! Yikes, I know! Two teenage girls… eek. Except… they’re pretty great.  Yeah, they’re moody and opinionated and one is messy and one is very particular in her cleanliness. But they are also selfless and loving children who have the heart of a servant and love their parents, families, friends and even each other. They’re pretty needy with me and always have a list of tasks—but I don’t mind them needing me, if I’m honest. If I don’t have time for their list of demands, I simply let them know and they handle it themselves.

They always tease me about who my favorite is and who I love more. The truth is that I love them exactly the same—but completely differently.

My “big girl” is so sure of herself and she never needs anyone to hype her up. She’s confident and self-assured and even if she’s not—she’ll fake it until she makes it. She doesn’t talk about feelings very much and she’s not really into telling anyone the private details of her life. She was dating her beau for almost two months before she told us they were an item. When I asked her about it prior she told me they “were just talking.” It took me a while to realize that this isn’t a knock on our relationship but rather a personality trait of hers. But I know that she will come to me with the big stuff or the stuff she needs help with. She has a great group of friends and a great tribe so she doesn’t need me for those things. She needs me for “mom things.” She also has no effs to give about whether or not people like her… either way is fine with her. She gets that from her dad. In all honesty, if I could—I’d want to be her when I grow up. Even though she knows that she knows that she knows. I don’t know anything anymore, but that comes with age and she’ll learn that the hard way. The same way we all do.

The “baby” on the other hand is riddled with self-doubt and worry. She tells me everything. EVERYTHING. I never have to guess what she’s thinking. We had to make a “kitchen table talk rule” so that she keeps personal stuff in the home. This became a necessity when a friend of ours (who also happens to be one of our pastors) told her at age 5 that he was a vampire and she promptly announced to everyone on her bus that I was going to meet him for “coffee”—yep… she sure did use air quotes. I assured the bus driver she didn’t know how to appropriately use air quotes and that we really were meeting for coffee. Her parting shot was “make sure he doesn’t suck your blood.” That very night we had a conversation about what is and is not appropriate. She’s also funny, but so is her sister, another thing they got from Mark.

I was driving along the other day and suddenly the question “who is the bravest person you know” popped into my head. Initially I thought it may be my grandma, mom, Mark before almost thinking it was Lauryne because she seems fearless, but of course she’s not. But then it occurred to me “fearless” is not the same as brave. Then I knew. Sass. My sweet Sassy Girl is the bravest human I know. She’s filled with angst, a lot. But even though she and I share the same kind of crippling fear, she does all the things anyway. At her age and far more recently I backed down from things that were scary. She never does. She runs directly into something she fears. Not without anxiety and often times not without tears, but nonetheless into what creates uncertainty and chaos for her.

So the truth is how can you love or even parent two individuals who are so vastly different, the same way? Yeah… I love my girls exactly the same amount but in two dramatically different ways.  I honestly think that’s better. It’s better to love them in the exact way that they need to be loved. Just the way I want to be loved.