Courtesy of Nicole Schildt.
- I thought being a good mother meant being fair and treating all of my kids the same way.
- But each of my six kids has different personalities and abilities and needs their own set of rules.
- It can be hard for my kids at times, but I am no longer compelled to make everything even.
For years, I thought being a good mother meant being a fair mother. And being fair, I assumed, meant treating all of my children exactly the same.
With six kids, this seemed especially important. I didn’t want anyone keeping score — or, more accurately, I didn’t want to give them anything to keep score about. If one child had a certain bedtime at 9:00 p.m., surely the next one should, too. Chores should be divided equally. Consequences should be consistent. Privileges should come at the same ages.
Equal meant fair. Except it didn’t.
My thinking evolved
The longer I parented, the harder it became to ignore what was right in front of me: I wasn’t raising six versions of the same child. I was raising six completely different people.
One of my children thrives when given independence. Give them a responsibility and some space, and they’ll usually rise to the occasion. Another needs more structure, more reminders, and more check-ins. That doesn’t make one child more responsible or the other less capable. They simply need different things from me.
The same is true of privileges. I used to think that if one child earned a later curfew at a certain age, every child should automatically receive the same privilege when they reached that age. Now I understand that age isn’t the only factor. Trust is built through choices. A child who has consistently demonstrated responsibility may be ready for freedom that a sibling at the same age isn’t ready for yet.
Sometimes, I feel guilty
My decisions can be hard to explain when the inevitable “But they got to!” comes flying across the room. And sometimes, if I’m being truthful, the difference has nothing to do with the children at all. My youngest gets more bedtime stories than my oldest did.
That realization could easily become another entry on the endless list of things mothers feel guilty about. But my oldest didn’t have the same mother my youngest has. Back then, I was younger, less experienced, and more concerned with getting everything right. I rushed through routines because there was always something else that needed to be done.
Six children later, I understand how quickly those routines disappear. I linger a little longer now.
That doesn’t mean I loved my older children less. It means motherhood has changed me. The mother raising my youngest has learned things the mother raising my oldest hadn’t learned yet.
I know this is the right way for me to parent
For a while, parenting my children differently felt like admitting I was inconsistent. Now I see it as evidence that I’m paying attention. My 8-year-old, who has always been an early riser, requires more sleep than some of his siblings, so he is the first to go to bed, while his younger siblings stay up a little later. It is unusual from the outside looking in, but it is what best meets his needs.
Fairness doesn’t always mean equal chores, identical consequences, or the same privileges at the same ages. Sometimes fairness means giving more guidance to the child who needs it and more independence to the one who is ready for it. It means recognizing that one child may need encouragement while another needs accountability.
My children still notice the differences, of course. They are children. Keeping track of who got what seems practically written into the sibling job description. But I no longer feel compelled to make everything even.
My job isn’t to make sure all six of my children receive exactly the same childhood; It’s to know each of them well enough to give them the childhood they need. After years of trying so hard to be equal, I’ve finally realized that might be the fairest thing I can do. I won’t always get it right. I’m still learning these six very different people as they grow and change—and trying to grow and change with them. Maybe good parenting was never about getting everything exactly right. Maybe it’s simply about paying attention, loving them well, and doing the best I can with the mother I am today.
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