It would appear that my first child got the best of me. Jeffrey got all the glory and attention and devotion any child could want, and the following children, well, I love them just as much, but there is just no record of it. Am I a bad mom?
It is almost the end of October, and I just realized that I never got Eric in for his two-year check up. I made the appointment this morning, and he is going in the first week of November, but I hang my head in shame, because I had Jeffrey’s doctor appointments on the calendar six months ahead of time. I have not even started Eric’s baby book; Jeffrey’s is hand painted and colored and calligraphied. I do have a box full of papers where I have randomly scribbled notes to myself when he did something cute or a milestone was reached, with the intention of using the notes to fill out his baby book someday…Just so I wouldn’t forget.
If poor, sweet little Eric were to look at the records alone, he would think he wasn’t loved, and that makes me feel soooo guilty. And this next baby….Oh my goodness! People ask me how far along I am, and I have no idea! I mumble something about being in the second trimester, but I am not even sure what my due date is! How sad is that?? When I was pregnant with Jeffrey, I knew to the hour how pregnant I was, and probably came off as the neurotic new mom when asked- “oh, I am 17 weeks, 3 1/2 days along!” I shake my head in embarrassment now. Is there a way for me to convince my children that I dearly love all of them, when looking at the paper trail alone, it would not appear so? Will I even know how old this next baby is? Will I remember to register him for kindergarten or even have the box of scrap paper notes??
I think I understand now why there is such a thing as “middle-child syndrome”, although I wonder if it’s so much a syndrome as just a forgetful mom who’s hands and plate are overflowing.