My mother has a favorite child, but it’s not me. Yes, she has more than one. Yes, it’s pretty evident that there is a favorite. No, she’s not subtle about it. No, it’s not in my head. This is a for real thing. My mom has a favorite child.
I know they say that a parent should not have favorites, but I’ve read enough Dear Prudie articles to know that there are parents who certainly do have favorites. I’ve seen enough Whisper posts to know that there are parents who have favorites. I’ve had a favorite brother; why not have a favorite child?
Well, for starters, it’s not fair. All of you out there who also know that your mother has a favorite will also know that it feels awfully unfair. You don’t get the same type of treatment. You don’t get the same advantages. You don’t get the same help, the same encouragement, the same types of presents, or anything the same. How this usually goes is the favorite child gets away with a whole lot and gets a lot.
In my family, I am the oldest child, the most responsible, the only one with a college education, the most talented one, as of yet, but none of that makes me the favorite. I’m even the only female child in my family. Does it matter? Nope.
Now, out of my three younger brothers, you might imagine that the youngest was the favorite, or the next to youngest for being so smart. You would be wrong. The favorite child in my family is the trouble-maker, the one who does everything wrong, the one who has caused more crap than the three other children combined. That one–that child, is the favorite.
I’ve always known this. Ever since this kid was born, I have known he was the favorite. He got more than I did. He got more attention from my mother than I did. He got more of everything. He got to sit up front in the car, a practice which would be frowned upon these days. He got the bigger room. He got the more expensive presents. He got the more expensive clothes. He got away with everything. He was defended more times than I ever was. More excuses have been made for him than anyone else in the family. If I had a dollar for every time my mother made an excuse for my brother, I probably wouldn’t have to work right now, well, at least for a couple of weeks anyway.
What’s more, people can see that my mom prefers my brother, over anyone else in the family, anyone, that includes her other children, her husband, her siblings, and various pets. It’s obvious. As my boyfriend put it, “She talks about him like she’s talking about a high school crush.” Everything is always centered around him. She’s calling him. She’s waiting on him. She’s paying for something, for him. She’s buying something for him.
Now that he has a baby, it’s worse. The baby is going to be the most spoiled baby in existence.
I don’t understand why. I don’t get why he is the favorite. It’s not that I want to be the favorite, because I don’t, really, my mom puts way too much attention on my brother and I’m just not that into that much attention from my mother. I just think it’s unfair. I have three brothers who are all valuable and great in their own rights. It’s like my mom practically ignores my other two brothers. Sure, she still loves them and still does things for them, but her emphasis is not on them; it’s on our other brother.
I do want to be a bit selfish about it. If my mother had defended me like she defended my brother, how much more well-adjusted would I be now? How much further would I be in my life if I had had a mother who actively participated in protecting my mental health, or my physical health for that matter? If my desires had been listened to, where would I be now? How about that time I begged to go to boarding school, seriously, how much better of an education would I have gotten? How much better off would I be mentally had I not had to live in a house with constant fighting all of the time?
My mom was still my mother, still is. She still did things for me. She still made sure I had a roof over my head. Ultimately though, whatever my mother has done for me and my other brothers pales in comparison to what she has done for the other brother, the favorite.
So, yeah, my mom has a favorite kid. I have no idea why he’s the favorite because he’s certainly caused her the most trouble, but he’s the favorite none-the-less. I don’t love my mom or my brother any less because of it, but it hurts a bit knowing that your own mother just doesn’t care for you in the way she cares for one of your siblings.