I love you best...

A week from this Saturday my youngest child and only son will marry. His bride will make a wonderful addition to our family. We all love Sarah. These past few weeks Conor's sisters and I have been looking through old photos to make a wedding video. Maybe that's what is causing this constant lump in my throat! We have also been listening to groom/mother dance songs. Maybe that is why I keep humming childhood lullabies.

The picture of Conor in his Superman costume, or rollerblading down the street, I'm fine with. The one of him sitting on the bench during a high school basketball game..that's the hard one. The pictures remind me that no matter how hard we try, we can't make everything perfect for our children. Not healthy anyway.

My girls, Amy and Stacy, have teased that Conor is my favorite. I've tried to explain to them that a mother does not have favorites. Conor was the last, and he was a boy after two girls. He smiled and laughed constantly. What's not to love?
I dug out an old newspaper column that I had saved for many years. The author was an anonymous mother. I hope that each of my children feel that "they" were the one I loved best!!

Dear First Born:
I've always loved you best because you were our first miracle. You were the genesis of a marriage and the fulfillment of young love. You sustained us through the hamburger years, the first apartment ( furnished in early American poverty), our first mode of transportation (1965 feet) and the 7 inch TV we paid on for 36 months. You had new and unused grandparents and enough clothes for a set of triplets. You were the original model for a mom and dad. You got the strained lamb and the open pins and 3 hour naps. You were the beginning.

Dear Middle Child:
I've always loved you best because you drew a tough spot in the family and it made you stronger for it. You cried less, had more patience, wore faded hand-me-downs, and never in your life did you do anything first. But it only made you more special. You were the one we relaxed with and realized that a dog could kiss you and you wouldn't get sick. You could cross the street long before you could get married. You helped us understand the world would not collapse if you went to bed with dirty feet. You were the child of our busy,ambitious years. Without you we could never have survived the job changes and the tedium routine that is marriage.

To the Baby:
I've always loved you best because while endings are generally sad, you were such a joy. You readily accepted the milk stained bibs, the lower bunk, the cracked baseball bat, the baby book with nothing written in it except a recipe for a graham cracker pie crust that someone had jammed between the pages. You were the one we held onto so tightly. You are the link to the past, a reason for tomorrow. You quickened our steps, squared our shoulders, restored our vision and gave us a sense of humor that security and maturity could not provide. When your hairline takes on the shape of Lake Erie and your own children tower over you, you will still be our baby.
- A Mother-