Picking Favorites

Did you hear about the lady who admitted she had a favorite among her four kids on British morning TV? If you haven't, you can read about it here

Basically, when asked if she had a favorite, she said yes, she definitely had a child she liked better than her others.  

Wow. That seems harsh, buuuut....

I don't know this lady and I certainly don't know how she's raising her kids, so I won't be quick to judge. Unless she's actually treating one child better than the others, shoving the less-loved kids in rooms under the stairs like little Harry Potters, then  I will judge. Shame on her. 

But maybe she's just talking off the cuff. My own parents would jokingly pick a favorite on a daily basis. Looking back, I'm surprised they didn't keep score cards-- you did dishes, extra point for you. You wrecked the car, shuffle your status to the bottom of the favorite deck. 

But in reality, my parents didn't have any favorites. Sure, my siblings tease me that I was the baby and the most spoiled of the brats (which is true!) but I was ALWAYS at my parent's house. I was there so often, they never rolled out the red carpet when I showed up. But if one of my siblings called and said they were coming, my parents would kick into action running to the store so they could make favorite foods and dinners. 

And don't even get me started on what my parents let my siblings get away with. I won't name names, but my older sisters and brother #1 were rotten. Because of them, brother #2 and I were raised by the parental Gestapo. If we had a nickel for every time we were told--we know that trick; we already raised the other three-- let's put it this way, with those nickels we'd have enough money to cover what brother #1 stole from our piggy banks to buy beer and pot. 

My parents would worry over what they could do to fix their kids when they were broken, but I don't ever recall my parents seeing their kids as the problem. Even when we (mostly they, I was the good kid, remember) did wrong, the devil made us (them) do it. My parent's kids were never to blame. 

But still...there were the jokes about earning favorite status. The bottom line is, it wasn't what my parents said that mattered; it was what they did. No child was treated better than any other. If we needed something, my parents tried their best to supply it. If one was given something, the rest of us got something too. And if we screwed up, we knew we were still loved. 

I always teased my mother that if any of us went to prison, she'd brag that we practically ran our cell block. She said she would expect us to step up and take charge. 

When my father was dying, he told me his biggest source of pride was his kids. He said that almost every family had their share of nasty fights and rivalries, but somehow, we were spared. There were five of us kids and not once was there ever a feud that barred us from speaking or visiting each other. 

I told my dad that he was lucky enough to never have any major assets for us to fight over. He laughed until tears sparkled in his eyes and he said he'd only had one regret in life until then-- he never got to prove that money wouldn't ruin him, but looking at it from my perspective, he was dying the most blessed of men.  

Hopefully, this mom is all chatter too because honestly, I don't know how you look at your kids and pick a favorite. 

 Celebrate the Small ThingsTo be part of this blog hop, all you have to do is visit the Celebrate page on Lexa's Blog for the rules, and then post every Friday about something you're grateful  for that week.  It can be about writing or family or school or general life.  This is the funnest and easiest blog hop ever! (Originated by VikLit)

I got half of my kitchen scrubbed down. Maybe by the end of the weekend, the whole thing will sparkle. I have a little house, how is it so hard to get it all done at once? 
Boy #1 turned 24 this week. Wow, he's getting old. :D 
And boy #4 will be 18 on Sunday. I'm not so sure how this is happening. I don't recall giving them permission to grow up so fast.
I'm closing in on finishing this round of edits on the next book. Like boy #2 told me, write fast, edit slow...there's no shame in that!
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