Fortunate Son

When I asked my mom, a recently retired therapist, if she thought she favored me, she said, "The term favored child, it's so simplistic to me. Because we favor different things in each child. And how they make us feel about ourselves. And how that changes. And those relationships develop." This went on for five minutes. During which, for the first time in my life, I picked a favorite parent.

Eventually she conceded that I was an easy kid, which made her feel good about herself and her mothering skills, while my sister tantrummed and rebelled. But that doesn't mean she favored me, she said. My success didn't influence her either. "I was very proud of you," she told me. "I was enormously proud of Lisa for so many things that she did that were about, uh, being a kind, loving human being." I don't see how demanding endless amounts of stuff from your parents is kind and loving, but other people see it differently.

My dad will not admit to having a favorite child, even when I told him we think he does. "Lisa might feel that I favor you," he said. "And because of that, I go out of my way to make sure I call her more often. Visit her more." I am pretty sure that once Lisa finds out that's why he calls so often, she is going to stop saying I'm the favorite.

Neither Lisa nor I blame our problems on our parents, me because my life is amazing and Lisa because she is distracted by a house full of stuff they bought her. But it is weird that Lisa has fewer self-esteem issues than I do. Whereas I'm approval seeking and fame hungry, she's well adjusted, somehow satisfied with having 169 Facebook friends and absolutely no fan page. I don't know where she gets the confidence. If I were the least favorite, I'd be desperate for even more attention than I have now. I might even be a politician.