Oh Brother

I’m gonna be honest with you; I do NOT feel like writing a blog post today. I’m sitting in the most freezing Starbucks on the planet (I know, #firstworldproblems.  Ugh.  Aren’t we done with hashtags yet?) and all I really want to do is go crawl back in bed and watch Drew Carey host the crap out of The Price is Right. But I shall persevere, and instead of beating myself up over my overall lack of motivation to do much of anything, I think I’ll chalk this one up to being 9+ months pregnant and so full of unborn baby that I feel like I could fall forward and face plant at any moment.

Ahhhh, the joys of motherhood.

It’s not that being a mom isn’t fantastic.  It is.  For those of you who know me and my little guy, you re pretty well aware of how superior I think he is to any and all other children (in a completely and totally unbiased way, of course.) I love seeing him grow into a little kid and develop his hilarious little 2-year-old personality and hearing him yell “Surprise!” to wake me up in the morning and watching him wrinkle his nose and laugh when my husband does white people dance moves all around our kitchen . I love all of that – it’s just that it makes me wonder. How am I going to love all of that, times TWO?

Yeah, yeah, I know.  “When there’s two of them, you’ll just have twice as much love to give.”  I understand how the general concept of love works.  I’m not worried that I’m not going to have enough love for both my sons.  I’m not Carol Baldwin.  It’s more a matter of learning how to divide my attention, time and energy between the two people who need me most.  Learning how to perform some kind of mommy mitosis, so that each of them get the exact same version of me – no better, no worse.  Now, I understand that all things can’t be equal – and generally speaking, I think that when parents try to keep things “fair” between their kids, they end up creating selfish mini-monsters, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t want each of my boys to feel equally loved by their mama.

There’s no easy answer to this problem.  I’m sure it’s something that will reveal itself to me sometime shortly after my kids leave for college – when they’re 99.9% sure they don’t need a mom anymore and only call me when their Crimson Cash cards need to be refilled.  (That’s right; they’re both going to Harvard.)  So for now, I’ll just resign myself to believing that my heart will perform a Grinch-like feat and grow at least two sizes by February 18th.

Either that, or Archie better be profoundly awesome – because he’s got some pretty stiff competition.


As always, if you have thoughts on this, we’d love to hear about it. Drop us a comment! Just don’t say anything we disagree with, because we’ll delete it. We’re drunk on power…

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