Love That Shouldn't Be Alike
September 5, 2008

"I love you all the same!" my mother used to say when one of us hinted at the preferential treatment of a sibling.

Now, my mother was an only child, so maybe she believed this. But having grown up with four siblings and having had four children of my own, I know better. For one thing, some of us are just easier to get along with than others. We may not be sure why this is, but if we are honest, we admit that it's true.

Current research suggests that children bring with them into this world a temperament uniquely their own. Certainly, things like parent interaction and birth order in the family affect children also. But it would seem that some infants are born rather content, and others rather fussy. And though we all profess to love our offspring deeply, it's easier to enjoy parenthood with a content infant than it is forever trying to calm a fussy one. Thus, our parenting behavior is often a dance with our child; a reaction to his or her behavior.

When we have more than one child, we become aware over time that one is easier to talk with, another easier to work with.  Perhaps still another makes us laugh easily when we are down in the dumps. The flip side to this, of course, is that one makes us cry more easily, one sparks our anger, and another sometimes acts like the brother, cousin, or aunt we could never stand. The hardest challenge, perhaps, is the child who reminds us of our own childhood difficulties, sometimes prompting us to look the other way to ease our own discomfort, just when our child needs us most.

To set, as a goal, not having preferences among our children is worthy, but achieving this goal can be tricky. We can pledge our love and commitment to all our children, but expression of this will be made in different ways and at different times with each child.

It is comforting to me, as a parent, that experts encourage us not to try to make everything equal among our children. I've tried at times to do just that, but I could never manage it. According to Carole and Andrew Calladine, authors of Raising Brothers and Sisters Without Raising the Roof, doling out gifts or special times on a perfectly equal basis only encourages children to keep scrupulous tabs on who gets what when. Rather, they suggest, view each child as only a child. Take her interests, time, age, and needs into account whenever planning special times. Don't buy two tickets to a baseball game if only one child really enjoys the sport. Children are less likely to compete with each other if they know they are viewed individually.

On the other hand, reducing, not eliminating sibling squabbles is the best we can hope for. Conflict is a normal part of all intimate relationships. Sharing a parent's love and attention is the most difficult challenge a child faces in her early years. There is bound to be some rivalry, but it can be kept to a minimum. Anne and Herman Roiphe, in Your Child's Mind, point out that, "A happy home is not one in which no feelings of anger or spite are expressed. A happy home is not a harmonious melody: at best it is one in which the cacophony is not constant and the individual voices can be heard above the din!"

Sometimes we forget, as a children's fighting escalates on a rainy day, that the primary goal of children's arguing is to control us, not each other. Ignoring inconsequential bickering is often the best approach. Having ground rules—such as no brother or sister is allowed to hurt one another, or bickering in front of Mom or Dad is not allowed—can be helpful. But the key ingredient remains our refusal to allow ourselves to be drawn in as arbitrators.

When a child comes whining that she's been victimized, try responding with empathy, a hug, and some form of, "You sound really angry. I hope you girls can work out a solution soon because it probably hurts both of you." What you are really saying is, "I hear you. I care about you. But this really is your problem to work out, and I'm confident that you'll manage it!"

Periodically, my children have all said they wished they were only children. They have all claimed that we always think they are the bad guy. They have all sworn that they never get the biggest half. These are always hard times for me; time when I hear my mom's voice proclaiming, "Come on, now, I love you all the same."

So I take a deep breath and say, "I love you all differently, and today it sounds like you feel it's just not enough." Someday they'll understand, I hope, that it is the best I could possibly offer.