One of My Kids is Harder, but It’s Not Him, It's Me
A guest essay by Vanessa Scaringi, PhD on how reframing the concept of a favorite child can help your parental stress
Welcome to another guest essay on A Wonderful Mess, you may remember I have some amazing contributors helping me out while I recover from shoulder surgery. And here is an essay all about perspective shifts, something I love. And kids are great perspective shifters (for us…not for themselves quite yet).
People tend to think when you already have, let’s say three kids, that when you add a fourth you know all there is to know about kids. Let me tell you what you really know—all kids are different. I feel pretty confident in this conclusion. I recall when our third came home from the hospital, we felt like baby sleep professionals. We had already navigated two newborns before him. So we started our “tried and true” sleep routine, put him in the crib with our magical lullaby and vibrating mattress contraption, and got ready to get some rest. He screamed in terror at the music and the vibration and readily declined our “tested” methods. And we learned about a whole new sleeper. Don’t even get me started on the fourth, she wanted to stand out as much as possible.
joins the mess today to share her perspective shifts coming into parenthood as an only child and how having more than one child highlighted some honest truths that we may all benefit from acknowledging. Vanessa Scaringi, PhD CEDS-C, is a licensed psychologist in Austin, TX. She co-owns a group therapy practice called CALM Counseling where she works with adolescents, young adults, and adult populations. Vanessa is passionate about eating disorders, motherhood, and all feminist issues. She often writes and teaches on these topics. Vanessa has been featured in TIME and Psychology Today. She joined Substack in 2024 and has loved connecting with fabulous like-minded writers. Her newsletter, , explores cultural trends with a healthy side of analysis.Thank you, Vanessa, for hanging out in the mess, and here is her story.
I am an only child, and my childhood definitely had a tinge of the “lonely only” vibe. In terms of isolation, it gets worse. I have no cousins (I have second cousins who are lovely but live in Italy while I am in the US). The experience of an only child gets a bad rap. I wouldn’t say I am socially awkward or maladjusted, but I just did not see a whole lot of families living in the messiness of having multiple children (and come to find out the messiness is intense!). In addition to not having my own exposure to the normal chaos of households, my parents did not either (my dad is also an only child and my mom and her sister didn’t really seem to have the typical disagreements or difficulties in many multi-kid households) and this lack of exposure to “the mess” has certainly affected me as a mom, especially when it comes to my expectations of parenting two little boys.
With all the attention on me as a kid, I became well aware of what my parents wanted. For this budding people-pleaser, I sort of knew I “should” behave. On an unconscious level, I think I knew my parents “needed” me to be “easy.” This experience might be more widely attributed to eldest daughters, but it rang true for me as an only child as well. There was nothing malicious about my parents leaning into my tendencies to please others AND as it turns out, modern parenting styles have certainly moved more towards letting our children lead—whoever they are.
So how did these early experiences as a perfectionistic only child affect me when I began having my children? I continued to receive (and still do) feedback about how easy I was. This narrative was certainly internalized. Early on with kids, I would sometimes catch myself assuming something was wrong with me or my kids, not yet just knowing that the challenges kids come with are totally normal, and each kid’s unique challenges are totally different!
There is no doubt that having kids is hard, regardless of any and all circumstances—the US surgeon general issued the long overdue warning that parental stress is real and harmful. But what is far less discussed is how our children may be specifically hard for US, based on our past. And what is even more taboo is the fact that maybe discussing this more openly could actually be a good thing.
My eldest son is kind, smart, sensitive and incredibly loving. He is also not the neat, tidy, or perfectionistic kid that I was. Both my parents and in-laws shared stories about how “busy” my son was or how “you never did that.” Not that I can’t tune out this kind of narrative but having my second son certainly put into focus just how different kids can be—and how their level of needs also varies dramatically. This inherent truth in parenting is something I knew on an intellectual level but seeing it on a daily basis just highlighted my own lack of personal experience seeing the day-to-day with kids.
Very early in my parenting journey, I often felt like I was doing something wrong for not having a kid who could just play nicely or transition without big feelings. In talking to other parents, it became crystal clear that some of their kids were exactly like my eldest and some were not. This was relieving on many levels but mostly I think it opened the door for me to get curious about my role in the frustrations or judgments. Here is where destigmatizing how specific kiddos might be hard for specific parents can help. The more I have talked about my son’s challenges for me, the more in touch I have become with my history and what I bring to the table. The ability to shift the focal point away from my son and develop more compassion in the process has been a gift.I often find myself reframing the damaging thought that “my older son is so much harder than my younger son” to “my older son is so much freer to share his needs and express himself than I might have been.”
Maybe we can step back and reframe the concept of having a “favorite.” Differential parental treatment can certainly negatively impact kids. Research has even shown that a child’s perception of being treated differently can lead to issues in self-esteem, anxiety, and depression. But what these studies aren’t addressing are that different kids really need different parenting. Luckily many point this out and describe the benefits of loving kids the same but treating them according to their specific needs, strengths, and personalities.
What I am advocating for is more honesty. The more we can be real and talk openly about the parental struggles we face, with ourselves, our partners, and other safe people about how are kids activate us, the better we parent. We have space to get curious. So get curious about why one of your kids is “harder” than another. For me it has been obvious—I have a harder time parenting one of my kids because of my own stuff, not because he is hard or bad in any way. Acknowledging this has been helpful and with all the difficulties we face as parents, I will take any win I can get!
You can find more of Vanessa’s writing in her Substack, A Side of Freud.
As always—Just a little reminder: The content on A Wonderful Mess posted by Dr. Kathryn Barbash, PsyD, is for educational and entertainment purposes only and is not intended to be a substitute for medical, clinical, legal, or professional advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Reliance on any information provided is solely at your own risk. Always seek the advice of your licensed mental health professional or other qualified health provider.
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Thank you Vanessa for your contribution to A Wonderful Mess!
I’m an only child , now with an only child , boy , who is Autistic . My husband and I were attending a Saturday social skill group for us and him, and I realized this was the ONLY space , where we were having casual yet focused conversations about parenting challenges. Now our schedules can’t accommodate this class. Our weekends have become very full with birthday parties, since my kiddo started TK. On several of these occasions I’ve had conversations with other boy mom’s where I have been so relieved to find out their kid does the same thing my kid does, or is into some of the weird stuff he is into. This is a new community and I hope to cultivate friendships for him and me, and as relieving as these conversations are , it’s also reminding me how deeply isolating this nuclear family, parenting experience is. Why are we doing it like this? My husband and I do our best, but with full time jobs, no family in the area, limited salaries, parenting is hard and it’s painful to the experience more stressful than enjoyable. Everyone says, build community, I think it will take time , but honestly I think the kind of community I really wish I had, can’t under these conditions.