A Different Childhood

One of the things that has probably been overly important to me in my motherhood is making sure my children all have the same childhood. What a silly notion! But it’s been something on my mind for years: we did x, y, and z for the older boys, so we definitely need to do x, y, and z for the younger boys, that kind of thing. Which really is silly, I know, because our boys simply *will* have different experiences growing up, no matter what. Time marches on — and time changes everything.

For one thing, time equals experience, and experienced parents do parenting differently than first-time parents. There’s a funny comic I’ve seen that describes the different stages of parenthood: when your first baby drops his pacifier on the floor, you immediately sterilize it in boiling water before giving it back. When your second baby drops his pacifier on the floor, you run it under water before giving it back. When your third baby drops his pacifier, you give it a quick swipe on your pants before giving it back. It’s true! Things that you absolutely freaked out about as first-time parents don’t phase you at all once you have a couple more kids. 

With my first, I did the homemade baby food route for a while: I steamed and pureed veggies and made homemade applesauce. After a few kids, I was a jar-and-pouch devotee! I was also extremely attentive to strict schedules of eating and sleeping for my oldest. Though schedules have always remained an important part of my mothering, my youngest has a far more relaxed rhythm to his day than his older brother did — he regularly goes to bed far later than my older boys would ever have been allowed to do.

Another thing about time is that older parents aren’t up for as much as younger parents are. When we started our family, we were in our twenties — young and energetic. When our youngest was born, we were in our forties — and I was feeling old and always tired (I’ll let my husband speak for himself!). 

I think back to that young woman I was with all those babies and I’m amazed. I used to take all the kids to the grocery store with me — so many little ones in the cart and on the cart and walking next to the cart — and now, if I have to take my youngest, I’ll sometimes put off my shopping trip for later in the day or another day altogether just so I don’t have to have to tell him seventeen times to stop jumping and walk normally, or to say no to all his requests for all the things.

With the passing of time comes an increase of technology: type and availability. With my older kids, I was determined to keep a tight lid on technology. My oldest didn’t even touch a computer or a tablet or anything like that until he was introduced to it in school. But as my older kids became older and their own technology requirements increased — like the requirement to have their own Chromebooks for middle- and high school, and the phones we determined were necessary for the big boys now that pay phones no longer exist — it all trickled down to the youngers. My older boys sometimes let their little brothers play games on their phones (under strict supervision), and my youngest often instructs me to “look it up on your phone!” when he asks me a question that I don’t know the answer to.

I often find myself starting to sink into a lament about my little guys not having the same kind of unplugged childhood that my older boys did. I worry about how the older boys’ busy schedules — work, sports, friends, school — interfere with the younger boys’ peaceful time at home. I wistfully remember the long walks I would take with all my little ones during our long, slow days at home together years ago, that I simply don’t have the time for now with my little guys. My little boys are left in the care of others far more than my olders ever were because of my own work. The big boys grew up surrounded by babies and smaller children; my youngest wishes he had the same — he has frequently asked me for a baby brother, and smothers his baby cousins with hugs whenever he sees them (which isn’t nearly often enough for his liking). The older boys have always had to share their space, have always had to deal with a houseful of people and noise; my youngest will be the only boy living full time at home for the entirety of his high school years.

I’ve heard many times from those who grew up in big families that the older siblings and the younger siblings all have a sense of being brought up by totally different parents. We even joke about that in my own family of origin — it’s generally acknowledged that my two youngest sisters, who are nine and eleven years younger than me, were brought up with a different set of rules than the rest of us. It’s funny and makes for good stories, but it can also sometimes feel unfair, which I think is what I’m trying to avoid the most. In the end, all I can do is pray and do the best I can, as my mom is always reminding me, and keep loving my kids. I hope the school year has started well for all of you and your little (and not so little) ones!

Kate and her husband have seven sons ages 19, 18, 16, 14, 12, 10, and 5. Email her at kmtowne23@gmail.com.