As a mom of three kids aged five and under, I am often asked if I have a favorite child. Obviously, the politically correct, positive, upbeat, well-intentioned mom in me, politely smiles and says, “Of course not! How could I?” That would make things unfair, wouldn’t it? It would…wouldn’t it?

A mother shouldn’t have a favorite, right?

I have a deep love and affection for each of my children and I love them both individually and collectively. I acknowledge that they each have their own unique character traits and personalities, they each have their own skill sets and interests. I love that each one, while being raised under the same roof, with the same rules, by the same parents, has their own flair that sets them apart as individual human beings linked intrinsically by DNA.

Vizuri is my oldest. She is spit-fire and shine. She is the leader. She is a certified #bossgirl on her way to the top. She has a quirky sense of fashion (which I often allow her to indulge in) and some very clear ideas about who runs the household (her). As my first-born and the only other of our kind in the home, there are certain moments when I give her preference (can’t very well do a ‘girls’ day out’ with my boys now can I?).

I frequently rely on her to handle small tasks around the house such as gathering up shoes before we leave, throwing trash in the bin and clearing dinner plates or even making up the beds. I do not choose domestic tasks for her because she is ‘the girl’ but rather, because she is really the only one capable of doing certain tasks without an exorbitant amount of guidance and assistance…and what good would a helper be if you have to help them help?

Emery is my middle-o. If you know him, you’re well aware that this boy is three going on seventy-three. Rather than send him to preschool, I think little dude is near ready for the retirement community. I can see it now, King of Bingo Night! He is deeply emotional and I swear he feels energy. Whenever I am feeling anxious or sad, without uttering a word, somehow he can sense it and is the first to come give me a hug and kiss on the forehead and tell me in his chipmunk voice, “I love you mom,” (melt my heart!).

He also has asthma, repeat ear infections and Eosinophilic Esophagitis which means he has multiple food allergies (those we can see and those we cannot) and many have not yet been diagnosed. He has had more surgeries than some adults I know (myself and my husband combined included) and we have to be ever vigilant that he is not exposed to food allergens as he has had both internal and topical reactions.

Surely because of these health issues, he has been a bit ‘babied’ and most certainly is my whiner, crier, tantrum-thrower, foot-stomper, and toy-catapulter, when he doesn’t get his way.

Mkazo is my surprise baby. He was born six months after the passing of my grandmother, four days before what would have been her ninety-first birthday. When he was born, everyone said how much he resembled her. I never saw it. Folks would comment and comment and it wasn’t until one day, one unremarkable day when we were outside in the backyard playing and, repeating after his dad, called me by my first name (or what his baby-talk could muster) and smiled at me that I saw her. Right there in his little eyes and his nose and his little sweet grin was my grandmother.

I now jokingly call him Ramona, especially when he’s being mischievous or is attempting to throw his weight around with me because I can see her personality and zest for life in him and it warms my heart.

So, back to the question, do I have a favorite? Real talk? Most emphatically yes! I do have a favorite. When Emery or Vizuri is falling out crying and carrying on about the ‘no’ (s)he just received and Mkazo comes up and tells me, “Mommy, it’s okay, I’m not crying,” he gets to be my favorite. When we are getting into the car and Vizuri manages to buckle her own seatbelt saving me one less child to saddle up into a carseat, she’s my favorite.

In the early morning hours, when the sun hasn’t quite peeked over the horizon and we all still have sleep in our eyes and Emery crawls up into my bed, rubs my cheek and burrows his warm little body under my blanket to spoon, he is my favorite. Each of my kids gets to be my favorite in some way or another each at different points each day. Is that unfair? I don’t know. But is it honest?

Yes.

I anticipate that each season of development will bring on its own sets of challenges and triumphs and each child will react to them differently, as will I. There will come times where one child will bring about a disappointment while another brings home a gold medal or acts courageously. Will I in my heart feel some type of way about either one? Certainly. Will I still love them equitably? Definitely.

Just like with other family members, coworkers or even friends, we each have a revolving set of favorites. There’s the favorite friend to shop with, the favorite uncle to fish with or

the favorite co-worker to grab drinks with at happy hour. Do we get to love them all? Do we get to pray for them all? Do we get to encourage, defend, support and learn from them all?

Incredibly, we do!

I look at my three kids in a similar light. I love them all, pray for them all, support, learn from and encourage them all and I call myself blessed to be their parent.

Do you have a favorite child? Did your parents have a favorite child? Were you that child?

How did you or how do you handle being or having a favorite child? How do you keep things equitable in your household? Let’s chat in the comments!