An Apology Letter to My First Born:

An Apology Letter to My Firstborn Child:

I recently read an apology letter another parent had written to their second born child, apologizing that he didn’t have a nice baby book or look as put together as the first born (“An Apology Letter to My Second Child” by Jennifer DeMattia). It reminded me of a conversation we had when you were lamenting the fact that you are the first born, recalling the pit falls to your place in our family. It got me thinking from your perspective and you are right. I am sorry for a few things. Here they are:

I want to apologize to you for being overly enthusiastic about everything in your life.

I’m pretty sure it was annoying at times. Especially when you were two weeks old and I put you in this teeny, tiny bathing suit and plopped you in the heated pool with Daddy. You are wailing in the photo, poor child. That was all for me and not at all sensitive to you. Your brothers were never forced to swim until they waddled to the pool themselves.

I had this little book with ideas of things to do with your child for every age bracket. At 5 months we played with wet pasta. I know now that that experience was just for me too. I was bored sitting home with you all day doing nothing. Wet pasta seemed better than nothing. I’m sure you could add to the list of annoying things I made you do just because I was excited to do them with you. Please forgive me for all of them.

In a moment, you became my life. I analyzed everything you did. We celebrated the most ridiculous milestones. I would call your aunts and inform them that you were now babbling consonant sounds. They humored me so I should really be writing another apology letter to them.

I want to apologize for not appreciating how brilliant you were because we just assumed you were normal.

We had no benchmark so when you started legitimately talking at 12 months and reading at 3 and a half we were elated but not really adequately proud of you. In fact, I was slightly annoyed because I was your teacher and we had only gotten through Q in our journey through the alphabet. Clearly you didn’t need me to teach you how to read unless it was only words without R-Z in them. Anyway, bravo for being brilliant! We truly do think you are now.

I am also sorry that we over reacted in your misbehavior as well. We really didn’t know anything at all about parenting when you showed up. We figured it out on you. The book said you should sleep an hour and a half for your naps and I should let you cry it out. You would sleep for 45 minutes and then cry for the next 45 while I sat crying in the other room listening to you. The book is clueless. It didn’t take me too long to figure that much out.

But your ever so mild tantrums (if you could even call them that) would send us searching for answers on how to discipline you properly. If your brothers had been born first we would have rejoiced over those tantrums and thought they were absolutely adorable. You definitely got away with nothing! We were all over you, and well,if it makes you feel any better, we think you might have turned out the best. Maybe there is something to obsessive parenting.

I want to apologize because EVERYTHING IS DOCUMENTED.

Yes, you do have a glorious baby book (3 in fact) but everything you did is in there for everyone to read. . . You can’t deny any of it. At least with the boys they can make up stuff that makes them look better. “I think I walked at 5 months”, “I’m pretty sure I was potty trained at 1”. Poor you! Everyone knows that you  still had your pacifier when you were almost 4. It’s in the book. You can’t deny it.

I want to apologize to you that you had to wait to be a certain age to get things that your brothers got at birth. . . literally at birth.

Daddy fed Brock ice cream at two weeks old! You didn’t have a fruit snack until you were almost two years old. You didn’t get to go to a water park until we went with the older three kids when you were 9 and Brock was 5. You reminded me a few times how unfair that was.

You came to me crying when you were in fifth grade because we didn’t let you watch Sponge Bob as a kid and you just heard one of your friend say Sponge Bob was for babies.

You said, “I miss my whole chance to watch Sponge Bob because now it’s just for babies and I never got to even watch it.”

Poor thing! You are right! Sponge Bob wouldn’t have ruined you. We were just holding out for better TV for our little angel. And now of course Levi watches Good Luck Charlie and Duck Dynasty with us. Not exactly the Veggie Tales and Miss Patty Cake you were enjoying at two.

I want to apologize to you because the advantages of being the oldest are pretty much capitalize in the first 2 years of your life and used on things that you probably don’t care about.

Yes, all the nursery equipment was new for you. Did you enjoy that?

Basically I want to apologize because no matter how old you are, we are still trying to figure out how to parent you.

You just turned 13. Guess what? I have never parented a teenager before. I don’t know what the appropriate volume is to yell at your soccer games or how much advice to give you on your clothes; Just like, I didn’t know when you were 8 months old that you would hate my homemade carrots and they would make you throw up. I am learning with you.  I know parents are suppose to have it all figured out, but I don’t (and neither does Daddy so try to be patient with him too).

The one thing that I do know though is that having you was the best experience of my life. You made me a mom first. From the second I knew you existed, I knew what unconditional love was. You taught me how to love. Thank you for being patient with me as I continue to figure out how to parent you. The next stage is starting to let go and I am pretty sure I will stink at that, but I will try.

So basically, I will never be sorry that you are my first born. I would do anything for you to know that.

I love you,
Mommy