The Not-So-Golden Child

The idea of parental favoritism is nothing new. We see examples of it in literature throughout the ages. We see examples in scripture. It's a tale as old as time.

I've always found parental favoritism interesting. One or both parents just seem to click with one child, while another child tends to be left to fend for himself. I get it. We all get along with those whose personalities complement our own. We tend to distance ourselves from those whose personalities or character traits clash with ours. It's normal and natural.

Normal and natural among peers. It is not normal or natural in relation to our children.

I don't often open up about my personal wounds. Let me share something with you that I've never openly discussed. I'm risking a lot by bringing this out, because many of those involved in this story could read this post, thereby creating a whirlpool of conflict. However, the facts are the facts, and our reactions to those facts are our choices.

I grew up in Southern California. My dad's family had traveled and sung all over the West Coast for years. They sang in churches each weekend. There was a lot of talent in the group, and they were becoming fairly well-known in the regional southern gospel community. My dad was the second of three sons, all of whom played roles in the family musical group.

My cousins and I appeared, at first, in stair-steps. My brother was the first born, then my cousin a year later, then I came along a year after that. Another cousin was born a few years after I was, then a set of twins. Then my youngest uncle began having daughters. It made for large gatherings and fun times, mostly.

I noticed while growing up, though, that my cousins spent far more time with my grandparents than my brother and I did. It always seemed odd to me that my family lived just twenty minutes away, but saw my grandparents extremely rarely. Each time we did see them, my cousins were there. And...my cousins were always talking about how Grandma and Grandpa had gone with them to some event or how Grandma and Grandpa had bought them some gift or another. Grandma and Grandpa were always having the cousins over to spend the nights or to watch them while their parents went somewhere. My cousins, though, lived twice as far from them as we did.

Over time, I realized two things: First, my parents enjoyed spending time with my brother and me, and didn't take us to our grandparents' place to be babysat. Second, my grandparents never set up get-togethers with us the way they did with my cousins. To be fair, this applied to only one set of cousins, as my dad's youngest brother's daughters were born much later.

My dad was the middle child, the second of three brothers. He had been the lead singer for the family's singing group for a very long time, but had left the group to pursue his calling as a pastor. The fact that the singing group traveled a lot would explain much of the fact that my cousins spent more time with my grandparents. However, what about the many weekdays they spent together and the various social get-togethers my grandparents seemed to be arranging with them all the time?

It may seem petty, but such favoritism among the cousins had a lasting impact on my brother and me. Over time, we hardly knew our grandparents anymore. It stung each time we were at a family get-together and our cousins would show off the items my grandparents had bought for them. It stung each time we'd hear funny stories about things that had been said and done at one of the many events they'd gone to with my cousins.

I was a child. I was their grandchild. They showed no interest in me. That hurt. That left scars.

I didn't realize at the time that this was the pattern they'd followed with my father, either. Being the middle child, my dad was between the first-born son and the much younger "baby" son. The first-born was treated as if he could do no wrong, and the youngest son's every talent, accomplishment, and milestone was lauded and magnified. My dad worked two jobs and pastored a church full time, but went unrecognized.

I have five children. Two are adults and three are at home with me. I cannot fathom the thought process that allows a parent to favor one child over another. Some of my children are more like me than others. Some of them are totally different. Some communicate with me more and some less. Yet, with the birth of each subsequent child, my love for the previous ones did not decrease. My interest in them did not decrease. Just when I thought my family was complete, God added another person to it. However, instead of dividing a finite amount of love by one more person, it seems God added exponentially more love to my heart, and it increased toward all of my kids. That's what parenting should be.

Not so with some parents, though. It seemed, in my dad's case, that his parents' affections migrated toward the two sons (and their families) who had the most in common with them. My oldest uncle and my younger uncle remained in the singing group, cutting several albums with the family, and traveling with them from singing engagement to singing engagement. I guess that was what was important to them, at least more important than seeking out the middle son and his two sons who would have loved to have a relationship with their grandparents as well.

It's sad that people would neglect one of their children's needs for a relationship while boasting on and on about how wonderful their other sons were and how great their kids were. Frankly, I got sick of hearing it. For a long time I resented my cousins for it. I realized that was misplaced resentment, though, and have adjusted my thinking. I now have pretty good relationships with several of my cousins. With the rest of the family, my brother and I are still outsiders. Though we've lived respectable lives, stayed out of trouble, and spent our lives serving God rather than ourselves, we never could break into the favored status required to be an integral part of our family.

It still stings, to an extent. I'm not angry anymore. My grandfather passed on a couple of decades ago, and my grandmother is in her mid-nineties. I hold no ill-will toward her. I simply don't know her. She's a stranger. I know her time on earth is growing short. I expect that when I find she has gone to her reward, I'll pause and consider it just like I would any other acquaintance. However, it won't be as though I've lost someone close to me. That was her choice. Over nearly five decades, I've been nothing more than an afterthought.

This all came to mind recently as I've watched the same thing happen to my children. My wife has two sisters, each with multiple children. My in-laws are following a very similar pattern for different reasons. My wife is the oldest of the three daughters. She is a godly woman, a devoted wife, a fantastic mother. Her sisters' lives have been far less stable. Therefore, the lives of their children have been rather tumultuous.

Much as my grandparents remained attached to the sons with whom they shared the most common interests, my mother-in-law is doing the same. Two of her daughters are following diligently her examples in outlook and actions, choices, and consequences. As a result, she feels very comfortable with them, often justifying their behaviors while at the same time feigning great frustration with them in gestures that would rival the overacting of a stand-in vaudevillian entertainer.

My wife, because of her lifestyle choices, doesn't fit in. She doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, abuses no chemicals, is in a stable marriage. She speaks articulately, strives to better herself, is always learning, and is an integral part of her children's daily activities. She homeschools the children, cooks most things from scratch, has worked hard to support herself, and is respectful. She removes herself from the drama that typically surrounds so many people. Many of these traits make her much different than her siblings.

My mother-in-law, on the other hand, can identify with many of the choices that her second and third daughters. They are very similar in personality and outlook to her. Therefore, mother and daughters tend to band together, often to the exclusion of my wife. Reminiscent of my experiences as a child, my wife lives twenty minutes from her mother but rarely sees her. When my wife reaches out, she is filled in on how busy her mom is with her other two sisters and their children.

My wife recently gently expressed her frustration with the fact that her mom never has time for my wife or our kids. Her mom texted her, saying that they'd set up a time the following week to get together. My wife never heard back. Then, when my wife reached out again, asking about their get-together, her mom said she had to run some errands with one of her other grandchildren. Then, when my wife demonstrated how this fits the pattern, she was told that my in-laws would like to take my wife and children to the zoo to make up for it.

As the day for the zoo trip grew nearer, my wife was told that the other grandchildren would have to be there as well. Then the event never materialized because of separate activities with the other grandkids.

Look, I'm just going to say it like it is. I know this post is turning into a rant. That wasn't my intention. However, on the occasions when my in-laws have time for my kids, the other grandkids are almost always present. We all get to hear of all the special events they share, of the grandparents' days at school, of the babysitting, of the overnighters, of the times Grandma and Grandpa take them to their timeshare property, of the clothes they buy them, of the toys they buy them, etc. My kids sit wide-eyed at the stories of fun and adventure. They never say anything about it. But it marks them. It scars them the same way it scarred me as a child. It wounds my wife.

I'm probably in a unique position. Because of my background, it's a bit easier for me to be aloof and remove myself from circles of people who don't want to have two-way relationships. It's tougher for my wife. My kids, as well.

I'm okay with not being accepted into my in-laws' family. I am saddened for my wife and for our children, however. They deserve better.

My wife is the most loving, compassionate, giving person I've ever known. My children are the best behaved, brightest minded, most thoughtful and polite children you can imagine. If you're related to them and make yourself too busy to spend time with them, I pity you your loss.

My children deserve better.

I will give them better. My job as their father is to protect and provide for them. That is exactly what I will do. I will protect my family from as many of the selfish, careless wounds that come from people who should know better. And I will provide them a loving, fulfilling environment in which they can thrive and grow into healthy, wholesome, loving young adults. It's a shame their grandparents, aunts, and cousins will miss out on knowing them as they grow up.