"Marsha, Marsha, Marsha!"

I'd like to broach quite a sensitive topic this morning: Of my three kids, I have a favorite. Hear me out. When I was about four month pregnant with the triplets, I went to see a therapist and told her I needed help getting along with my partner. (Ya think I had an inkling that relationship might not last?) Obviously she didn't do much to help me save the relationship. But she did tell me two things that would become absolutely invaluable to me as a mom. First, she told me that the idea a mom will feel instant bonding and love when their baby is born is mostly false. She said not to worry if it took a while to feel that bond. Secondly, she said that I should not feel bad if I bonded with one child faster than the other two. I will always be thankful to her for cluing me in on that.

See, I started feeling a bond with one baby, let's call this baby so-and-so, even before the triplets were born. Strange but true. I don't know why but I felt that so-and-so was the baby I was always meant to have. I didn't feel that "Oh-my-God-I'd-give-my-life-for-these-babies" for quite a few months. In fact, when they were about one month old and napping in their nurseries upstairs, I was downstairs taking a shower. (Taking a shower? Must have been a Tuesday.) I remember thinking, whoa, what if the house caught fire? How would I rescue three innocent babies? Then I remembered that there was a door to the basement leading to the backyard and I remember thinking quite clearly that I would get myself the hell out of the house, call 911 and hope for the best for the little munchkins. After all, I'd only known them a month and third degree burns are a bit much to suffer for folks you barely know. I know, I know, I'm a total shit. Well the house did not burn down and a year and a half later they are all fat, happy, healthy, and with barely a mark on them.

When the babies were about four months old I was sitting in my recliner holding so-and-so and watching the evening news. A piece came on about some horrendous abuse of a young child at the hands of a stranger. I nearly levitated off that recliner. I clutched so-and-so to my bosom, I started hyperventilating. If anyone, ANYONE laid a hand on so-and-so, I realized, I would tear their eyes out with my bare hands. I would rip him from limb to limb. Right then I wish I wasn't so anti-gun because I would want to fire a few rounds into his balls. Whoooo, I realized....with so-and-so I had reached that fierce love, that momma lioness, don't mess with my kid craziness. It had happened. My bonding with so-and-so was complete.

I didn't think anyone else would notice this wee preference of mine. But when my sister came to spend a week to help out she said something along the lines of "Blah, blah, blah and anyway so-and-so is your favorite." Damn. I thought I hid it pretty well. Fast forward to now. I have that fierce momma lioness love for all three of my children. I dare anyone to come to my home and figure out who so-and-so is. I would give my right arm for anyone of those babies. Well, I'm a righty so make that my left arm. Scratch that, I type with two hands. Let's say I'd give both ears for them...Grandma says I don't listen to a damn thing anyone says anyway.

There is another reason I feel no guilt about that initial favoritism of so-and-so. You've read about the less than friendly relationship I now have with Grandma, right? She had seven children. Guess who was her favorite? Yep, yours truly. So I know that if so-and-so shows up at my house 35 years from now, depressed, unemployed and saddled with children for me to care for, I would drive so-and-so's ass directly to the nearest homeless shelter.

I'd keep the grandkids, though.