Last night Bunlet woke me up in the middle of the night with his piteous crying. I am not sympathetic when abruptly woken, so as I reeled towards his room I reminded myself to show compassion as opposed to hissing what the fuck is your problem? He sat up in bed and informed me I love daddy more than I love you.
Okay, I replied, and went back to bed. Then I indulged in some fantasies about a) taking away his pillows to make him cry and b) replying No worries, I love Bun Bun more than I love you.
Both toddlers are in a daddy preferring phase right now, which is hard to take. They cry when they find out it’s my turn to do something, and on Sunday Bun Bun had a full on tantrum because I was the one giving her a bath.
I remind myself it’s normal, and that being the preferred parent is supposedly not nice either (wouldn’t know). I remind myself that them being hurtful is good training for their adolescence. Mostly I am good about crying in a corner rather than getting mad and rejecting them right back, but it hurts my feelings and some days the hits just keep coming.
However, I’ve got a dirty baby hoarding secret. While I love them all equally, I sometimes prefer the company of different children at different times. Depending on what’s up with them developmentally, one or another may be easier to get along with.
Right now, I like Bunter and Bun Bun, while Bunlet is pissing me off. Bunter, at 2.5 months, reliably sleeps between 10pm and 4:30am, sometimes 5:30. She makes a heartbreaking squeaking noise when she’s distressed. She desperately struggles to get her thumb in her mouth, and fails. She has become delightfully plump (80th percentile!) and here she is caught in the act of smiling.
LOVE LOVE LOVE. So we’re getting along well.
Bun Bun, when she’s not rejecting me, is super fun to hang out with. She chops carrots, cracks eggs, folds laundry, and wants to be read to endlessly. Left to her own devices, she plays fascinating, elaborate games that I can listen in on, many involving cake and various animals. She sewed a stocking for her stuffed bunny. She’s just my speed.
Bunlet, on the other hand, has recently become an asshole. He shouts NO! when I tell him to do something reasonable like put on his shoes. He throws things. He tears books ON PURPOSE, a capital crime as far as I’m concerned. He stares into space obliviously when I need him to execute some simple directive. He refuses to put his toys away, claiming I too tired. I’ll just supervise. I spend a lot of time doling out consequences and not much time enjoying his company.
It’s a bummer, because it wasn’t so long ago that he was the one I found easiest. Where did that Bunlet go?
It’s okay. The wheel never stops turning. Soon enough he’ll be back on top. In the meantime, I’ll just keep my mouth shut and nurse my little secret.