Brother Wars

Yesterday Judah asked me again, point blank, "Mommy, who do you love more--me or Noah?"

I was sorely tempted to say, "You Judah!" because (a) Noah is too young to know what we're talking about and (b) if I don't say "Judah," he has a total meltdown.

Mommy loves you both the same--but sometimes she fudges it for the sake of peace.
(Photo credit: nandphotography.net)

Almost an entire year after Noah intruded on the scene, Judah is still very not okay with sharing his mommy (or anything else for that matter).  In fact, instead of being more accepting, Judah seems to be getting more jealous and begrudging.

Now that Noah is more than just an immobile blob that stays in his bouncey seat, conflict between the boys has peaked to new levels.

"Noah's messing up my spaceship!"
"No Noah!  Go away!"
"You can't play with that Noah!"

These are the constant refrains ringing in my ears when I leave the two kids to "play" together.  Noah also apparently has the Midas touch.  Any object he touches--no matter how old or ratty or previously ignored by Judah--immediately skyrockets in value and must be snatched away by Judah.

Noah is by and large unfazed by his brother's obnoxious behavior.  He doesn't cry when toys are ripped out of his chubby hand.  He doesn't flinch when Judah gets right in front of his face and yells at him.  He doesn't even cry when he's pushed down or dragged away (unless he's seriously hurt which happens on occasion).

But I am not unfazed.  I am very much fazed.  I do worry we are embarking on a new chapter, of which seasoned parents of siblings know all too well--the constant fighting, bickering, arguing, and not sharing phase of our lives.

The one in which at some point, someone will be complaining often that "He's breathing near me!" and masking tape will divide everything from the playroom to the inside of the car.