People always ask me if I think it’s a good idea to have two
children and, if so, how close together. I’m not sure why they ask
me this. Perhaps it’s because my children are only two and a half
years apart; therefore, I should have some insight about this.
Perhaps it’s because they see what a great job I’m doing and
respect my opinion. Or maybe it’s because the bags under my eyes
make me look too tired to lie.
People always ask me if I think it’s a good idea to have two children and, if so, how close together. I’m not sure why they ask me this. Perhaps it’s because my children are only two and a half years apart; therefore, I should have some insight about this. Perhaps it’s because they see what a great job I’m doing and respect my opinion. Or maybe it’s because the bags under my eyes make me look too tired to lie.
For whatever reason, I usually give them a sage-like answer about how siblings close in age grow up to be more assertive, successful, articulate and all that. Deep down I really just thought it would be nice for my daughter to have someone else to play checkers with.
However, there was one thing I didn’t count on. Nowhere in all of those parenting books did it mention the number one rule for raising two or more children. Everything – everything – must be equal at all times. And it never really changes, though sure, things improve. But one minute you’re counting out the number of cookies each child is getting; the next, you’re making sure that each of them are going to bed at the same time, has the same amount of chores, homework time, allowance, hours logged on the TV and Internet; you know, maybe it doesn’t get better.
In any case, believe me, from an early age, they keep track. This includes such things as who sat in the cart the last time we went to the grocery store; whose turn it is to use the purple cup at dinner; and who had .08 teaspoon more chocolate syrup on their ice cream. When my son was 5 and could barely count to 10, he still knew what nights he went to bed 3.7 minutes before his sister did. She knew exactly how many sips of milk he had in his cup during dinner.
Of course I wanted both my children to be happy. At first I tried to solve the problem by offering vague, Zen-like suggestions. “Relax, Honey. Your brother doesn’t have more purple Play-Doh. It really belongs to both of you.”
When that didn’t work I tried reasoning. “If you let your sister go first now, you can go first next time. See, easy, huh?”
Once I was reduced to the sarcastic, “We gave your brother one more marshmallow on his sundae because we like him better.”
But none of these comments seemed to help their inconsistent relationship. One minute they’d be sitting on the floor playing Candyland, and the next arguing about who is breathing more air. I began to suspect they kept a tally sheet underneath their pillows and compared notes each night before going to sleep.
For a while I tried to prevent arguments by automatically dividing everything in half. No matter how hard I tried, sooner or later one of my children would break out a ruler and accuse the other one of having more.
It was clear I needed outside help the day my mother-in-law caught me trying to mark the cat off into two equal pieces. “You know,” she said, “a child’s concept of wanting everything equal has nothing to do with having more food or getting in the car first. It’s just their way of assuring themselves they are loved equally.”
This was just the type of answer I had come to expect from her. But, I must admit, it made sense. So the next time my son accused my daughter of having .03 grams more ice cream in her bowl, I put my arms around him and gave him a hug.
And when he hugged me back, for a whole five seconds, I felt like I was on the verge of a parental breakthrough, perhaps even a victory. Then my daughter announced that she wanted a hug and a kiss.
Sigh. The last several years haven’t been easy.
Debbie Farmer is a humorist and a mother holding down the fort in California, and the author of “Don’t Put Lipstick on the Cat.” You can reach her at
fa********@oa***************.com
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