It's no secret: Parenthood is full of heartache and joy

From today's Briefing:

I have two secrets to share.

A few nights ago, Katie sidled up, put her arm around my shoulder, moved my hair out of the way and whispered in my ear: “Mommy, I need to tell you something. Sometimes it feels like you like Cooper more than me.”

Oh, my heart.

Who hasn’t felt that way? That a parent favors another child over you. That the boss prefers another employee — or several — over you. Regardless of the truth, the feeling is real.

I pulled her onto my lap, squeezed her close and said: “Katie, I am so sorry that you feel that way. It’s not true at all, but I believe that you feel that way. Thank you for telling me.”

She snuggled for a moment then bounced away.

Mom guilt was slightly buffered with gratitude. I’m thankful that she trusted me with her concern. I grew up with similar worries, but I would never, ever have said them aloud.

A couple of days later, I asked her why she thought I liked her big brother more.

She scrunched her nose, knit her brows, tilted her head to the left and answered: “You talk to him about more interesting stuff than me. I like to hear everything, too.”

I told her that I’d work on including her more. And that a few conversations were appropriate for a 9-year-old but not a 5-year-old.

And that if she asked Cooper, he’d probably admit that it sometimes feels to him that I like her more. (Based on past experiences, he would most likely point to more chores and more responsibilities as proof. Then I would counter with greater freedom. But that’s an entirely different issue.)

Sometimes she doubts how much Cooper likes her, too — again, a perfectly normal sibling emotion.

That’s where the second secret comes in.

Katie is currently obsessed with a particular brand of doll. She carries the catalog around with reverence usually reserved for Scripture. She studies each page, memorizing accessories and furniture for each doll. She reminds me frequently of which of her friends have not just one but two or three or four of these kinds of dolls.

She knows that I don’t buy toys during random times in the year, so she hasn’t asked for anything from me. (Though she is working on her June birthday wish list.)

Instead, she counts her money and dreams of ways to earn more.

Cooper is super patient with her obsession. If Katie hollers from another room, “Cooper, you HAVE to see this AMAZING scooter and little dog,” he stops what he’s doing and peers over her shoulder.

“Oh, that is nice, Katie,” he’ll say without a hint of irony or irritation.

He helps her match items with prices. Gives advice on what he thinks is worth spending money on.

This week she decided she’d spend all her money at the store. The challenge is knowing how much all her money really is. She squirrels it away in multiple piggy banks, jewelry boxes, purses and tiny drawers.

Cooper offered to help. They spent an hour locating hiding places, then they huddled over piles of coins and small bills.

The grand total: $58.75.

Katie ran from her room to tell me. Then she hopped up and down and all around as she told me what she planned to buy with her riches.

Meanwhile, Cooper sidled up next to me, leaned in, pushed my hair aside and whispered: “I put some of my own money in Katie’s pile. It’s my secret gift.”

Oh, my heart.

I’m carrying both (now revealed) secrets as reminders of the challenges and delights of raising children — heartache and joy intertwined. Joy always triumphs.

Tyra Damm is a Briefing columnist. E-mail her at tyradamm@gmail.com.