I love my kids. All three of them. So stinking much. But each kid is different and my love for each kid is a little different. It’s an interesting thing to stand back from and observe, really, though it sometimes makes me uncomfortable like I should love them all the same. My beloved therapist – mother to two and stepmother to two – assures me it’s always different for each different kid, because by definition, they’re different people.
Kiddo is the oldest, and I love age 11. I’ve loved every age with her except 4 (the “eff you fours” ran strong with that one!) but 11 is truly my favorite so far. She understands so much more now and is using the understanding to the greater good.
She’s turning out to be a great “big sister” to the other two girls, though she hates being called a sister to them. Tonight, when we picked Kiddo up, she gave sticks of gum to the other two, which was nice of her. I gave them a stern admonition that they are to spit their gum out into a tissue when they are done with it. A few minutes later, Kiddo was blowing bubbles with her gum, and Sprout tried to mimic the big kid and do the same. She immediately shot her gum out of her mouth and it is *somewhere* in the back seat of my car. God help me, I can’t find it. It will show up at some point and we’ll all be full of regrets.
But anyway, Sprout was worried she’d be in trouble for not spitting her gum out into a tissue, and was sad she’d lost her gum. I reassured her she wasn’t in trouble but begged her not to blow bubbles yet. Kiddo looked over, saw Sprout’s tears, looked at the single remaining piece of gum in her hand, looked at me, looked back at the gum, and handed the last piece to Sprout to stop the tears.
It’s the little things like that that reassure me that I’m co-raising a kind kid.
Kiddo is also very protective of me. She knows I have some health issues, and hates it when the littler kids push their luck behavior-wise. She’ll tell them to stop misbehaving, and they listen to her because she’s the big kid and they look up to her. She wields that power appropriately and it’s much appreciated.
I love the increased understanding that she has. She surprised me when I read the 1619 Project children’s book Born on the Water to her and she cried. She recently listened to Dr. Martin Luther King’s “I Have a Dream” speech with Sunny and me and engaged in very intelligent conversation about racism. And tonight? She learned about autoimmune diseases. Here’s how the conversation went:
Seth: “Miss Holly isn’t feeling very well.”
Kiddo: “Why?”
Seth: “She got a cold so she had to stop taking her medication.”
Kiddo: “Why did she have to stop taking her medicine when she got a cold?”
Seth: “Well, her immune system doesn’t work right. For most people their immune system fights off colds and bugs and keeps them healthy. But Miss Holly’s immune system attacks her body.”
Kiddo: “Whoa. That must suck. So she didn’t take the medicine when she got the cold so her immune system could fight it off, but that means it starts attacking her body again?”
Seth: “Spot on. That’s exactly right.”
Kiddo: “That is terrible.”
Seth: “So be nice to Miss Holly tomorrow.”
Kiddo: “Yeaaaah…”
And she will be. She’ll be solicitous and kind to me while still having raucous fun with the littler girls. She’ll help me keep the house from looking like a tornado ripped through it by being conscientious about cleaning up after each crazy idea she has for an activity.
Sometimes I feel guilty that a beloved kid has to worry about my health. I hate that. But honestly? I also think it’s helped shape her into the kind and super cool human she’s become.
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