On the way back from the family trip, the kids got hungry, so my parents decided to stop so they could eat. As we reached the restaurant and sat at the table and began ordering, my mother yelled, “Your kids can eat when they get home.” While she started handing out plates, my sister’s kids started eating their meals. Her husband said, “Should have fed them first if they were so hungry.” Dad added, “Some children just need to learn patience.” I just whispered, “Copy that.”
When the waiter returned, I stood up and said, “Growing up as the middle child in the Patterson family meant existing in a permanent state of invisibility.
My older sister Lauren had always been the golden child, the one who could do no wrong in our parents’ eyes. Everything she touched turned to gold, or so they believed.”
Me? I was background noise, the daughter they tolerated rather than celebrated.
The favoritism started young. Lauren got the bigger bedroom, the nicer clothes, the actual birthday parties with friends and decorations. I got hand-me-downs and a cupcake with a single candle if I was lucky.
When she made honor roll, Dad took her out for steak dinners. When I made honor roll, Mom said it was expected and asked why I hadn’t gotten straight A’s like Lauren always did—conveniently forgetting that Lauren had never actually achieved that either. This trip to Lake George had been sold to me as a family bonding experience.
But within the first hour of driving, I realized it was really just another excuse for my parents to worship at the altar of Lauren and her perfect life. She’d married Derrick three years ago—a finance guy who drove a BMW and talked endlessly about his investment portfolio. They had two kids, Madison, age six, and Braden, age four.
Both children were, according to my mother, absolutely precious angels sent from heaven itself. My own kids, Emma and Tyler, ages seven and five, respectively, were apparently sent from somewhere significantly less celestial. The lakehouse weekend had been seventy-two hours of watching my parents dote on Lauren’s children while ignoring mine.
Madison spilled juice all over the carpet. “Oh, honey, accidents happen.” Tyler accidentally knocked over a plastic cup. “Why can’t you watch what you’re doing?
