My oldest stands at 6-feet tall and wears a size 12 shoe. He has one year left living at home — a thought that breaks me and leaves me in denial about how fast time really does fly by.
Through the years, he’s taught me more than anyone has about life, love, and parenting. But mostly, he’s taught me about myself and there’s so much I want him to know.
Like how hard it must be to be the one who sets the tone for his younger brother and sister. I realize it’s a job he didn’t ask for. He used to hate it when he’d realize they were going to bed later than he got to at their age.
He notices how much is put on him by default
They break us in and teach us how great parent-child love really is
They listen to us worry and feel the blanket of overprotectiveness we throw on them all the time, because we just aren’t sure how this is all going to go and, damn, we want to get it right.
It’s been a few years since my son has reminded me I was harder on him than I have been on his siblings. He doesn’t compare bedtimes or talk about the fact they got cellphones at a younger age than he did. He doesn’t mention how I’m more relaxed about what they eat, and I let them hang out with their friends more than he was able to.
And I can see that’s a part of being the oldest: letting things go and just accepting this is your role. In a lot of ways, you're helping the whole family by being a little bit of an experiment.
And if you ask me, I think that’s pretty amazing
So, to my oldest child: I’m sorry that life is more unfair for you than it is for your brother and sister. I’m sorry you didn't have someone to ask about firsts and get as many breaks.
I’m sorry.
But it was never intentional, and I have to say, you’ve endured it all and turned out beautifully.
