As I diligently unloaded the dishwasher, my two-year-old exclaimed, “Make a zoo. Sit down. Mommy, let’s make a zoo together.” Eager to finish my chore, I replied, “Just a moment, sweetheart.” However, before I could complete my sentence, my eldest began calling from the bathroom, urgently needing help, while my youngest cried for nursing. A series of improvised distractions ensued, and in the chaos, I completely forgot about both the dishes and the zoo.
Later, while grappling with a laundry basket that had loomed over me for days, I again heard my toddler’s plea to create a zoo. I repeated my previous response, “As soon as mommy is done,” only to be interrupted again by my other children’s demands for my attention.
As the evening progressed and dinner was wrapped up, my son made one last request to play zoo. He had been patiently waiting all day, surrounded by a bin overflowing with animals, ready for his mom to engage with him. In that moment, it dawned on me how desperately he sought my attention. It was a wake-up call that highlighted how I had been falling short as a mom lately.
This whirlwind of parenting is my current norm, particularly with the arrival of my third child. Ever since her birth, I’ve been in survival mode, operating on autopilot and tackling whatever issue presents itself at that moment. Often, I feel overwhelmed and as though I’m merely treading water.
Juggling multiple children is a messy endeavor. While there are fleeting moments for household chores, most of my time is spent seeking opportunities to take a bathroom break or locate my seemingly lost cup of coffee, likely still sitting in the microwave from previous reheating attempts.
As the newborn phase draws to a close, I’m becoming increasingly aware of the overwhelming mom guilt that accompanies it. With my ability to think clearly returning, I’ve realized that my middle child is getting the short end of the stick.
My second child has always been easygoing, adapting well to the chaos. His natural independence and ability to entertain himself have been blessings, but I now worry I may have taken this characteristic for granted. With two demanding siblings, it’s clear he’s getting lost in the shuffle.
The phrase “the squeaky wheel gets the grease” resonates here—the loudest demands often drown out the quieter ones. In my case, my eldest and youngest are the loudest. This brings to mind the concept of middle child syndrome, where feelings of neglect are common. While my firstborn receives praise for milestones and my youngest is showered with affection, my middle child often feels overlooked, sitting at the table with his bin of animals, yearning for my time.
Regardless of whether middle child syndrome is substantiated, I’m acutely aware of my children’s personalities and needs. I recognize the necessity of being more intentional about allocating my attention among all three.
As a newcomer to parenting three children, I realize I must be more deliberate in carving out time for each of them. All my kids need me, but their needs are distinct. I refuse to let my middle child feel invisible or resentful. His voice may not be loud, and he may not articulate his feelings, but as the haze of the newborn phase dissipates, I am committed to spending quality time with him. When he asks to make a zoo, I will prioritize that moment, setting everything aside to give him the one-on-one attention he craves.
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Summary
The chaos of parenting three children can lead to feelings of being overwhelmed and neglecting the quieter needs of a middle child. As the author reflects on their experiences, they recognize the importance of giving each child individual attention, particularly as they navigate the challenges that come with a newborn. Prioritizing quality time can help bridge the gap and ensure that no child feels overlooked.