“I want daddy,” my older son (nicknamed Sprout) responded when asked who he wanted to read bedtime stories with. In the past, I would have been choking back tears. These days, I feel differently.

Right after my younger son was born, Sprout only wanted “Daddy.” Daddy to read to him, Daddy to play with him, Daddy to tuck him in. All the time. After two years as the favorite parent, I was abruptly ousted from that position.

I couldn’t blame him. In fact, splitting my time and energy between the kids was one of my main concerns about having a second child. While pregnant, I’d stand at the sink washing the dishes – where all my best worrying gets done – and wonder, “I have so little time. How am I going to balance both kids?” When my younger son arrived, Sprout bonded with him almost immediately. He was interested in playing, encouraging, and just being in the general vicinity of his little brother. Any sibling rivalry seemed minimal.

Instead, all of his frustration and anger was directed towards me. He would refuse hugs and even run away from me. It fueled all of my anxieties. Was having a second kid the right decision? Too late now, obviously. Did I do something wrong? Is there more I could be doing to connect with him? I’d swallow back tears, wondering if we’d ever have the same close relationship again.

These days, we’ve all grown up so much.

When my son chooses my husband over me, it’s out of fondness, not anger or frustration. Since Sprout’s started kindergarten, he’s had far less time with my husband than ever before. Of course he wants to make up for it. Seeing him snuggle into my husband’s shoulder or tell him the millionth fact about Mario Party draws a smile from me instead of a torrent of anxieties. When Sprout wants Chris to read books to him instead of me, I embrace the chance for a break and settle into the couch.

As for me, I’m so much more confident in my ability to share myself between my children. I still feel a pang of guilt when they both want me to themselves, but it doesn’t envelop me like it once did. I know what I do and what I can’t control. I work to carve out special one-on-one time with Sprout. When he does resent me for not being available, I understand his feelings without translating them into judgment of myself.

So often, it’s hard to see the situation in front of us as temporary. It feels like what we do today will permanently affect our children forever. We forget both how much we’ve grown and how much more we have to grow. Because that’s what this parenting thing is, after all – learning and growing in love as we learn what it means to be a family together.

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