“Daddy is the best, and Mommy is chopped liver!”

Several months ago, I taught my toddler to say this as a joke. At the time, she would alternate between telling my husband he was the best, and then telling me I was the best. One day, my natural response to, “Daddy is the best!” was “What am I, chopped liver?” This was so hilarious to my daughter that she started to repeat it over and over again. Maybe I made a mistake in teaching her the statement, or maybe it was making a video of her saying it, or maybe it was just the natural progression of things, but over time it seemed like my daughter started wanting Daddy more and more — and Mommy less and less.

Her life didn’t start out that way, obviously. I had the milk and the time to spend with her during the first months after she was born. When I was desperate for my husband to take our new baby the moment he would come home from work, both of their body temperatures would rise to the point where he would start to sweat and she would get a heat rash almost immediately. The man couldn’t even hold his own baby! Their bond has obviously grown over the past three years, for which I’m incredibly thankful. I have a great relationship with my own dad and want my husband and daughter to have the same. I just didn’t think it would come at the expense of my own relationship with her.

Our second daughter was born just a few weeks ago. I knew that bringing a new baby home was bound to challenge us as a family. I anticipated a jealous toddler, but I assumed it would come from me spending time with the baby. Instead, the jealousy comes when my husband spends time with the baby. My toddler now wants Daddy to do everything for her, from making her meals, to taking her in and out of her car seat, to doing bubbles in the yard, kicking a ball, or having a tea party. It’s Daddy, Daddy, Daddy — all the time — and it’s getting exhausting for both of us.

On the one hand, it seems somewhat natural to divide responsibilities in this way — our newborn is still attached to the boob, and I’m able to wear her or hold her with no temperature issues (she also gets a heat rash from my husband — sigh). But on the other hand, I miss my toddler; I miss hearing the funny things she says, and reading to her at night, and getting a random “huggy” or “kissy.” These things still happen, but they are fewer and farther between these days.

I thought I had more time before I’d have to deal with this sort of problem. I sort of expected that my daughter would withdraw during her teenage years, and there might be days when she thinks she hates me. But adolescence seems to be starting earlier and earlier these days, and my toddler is about to become a “threenager,” so perhaps we have arrived at that period of time sooner than I was expecting? A coworker also suggested that at this age, everything is a phase, so maybe we should just ride it out and wait for things to change on their own? Or should I force my toddler to have fun with me?

As I think back on the past seven weeks since the new baby arrived, it seems like most of the words that I’ve spoken to my toddler have been some variation on “gentle,” “that’s too much,” “stop,” etc. We’ve certainly had some good moments as well. Being home with her has allowed us to bake banana bread and scones together, something that we both enjoy but rarely get to do when I’m at work and she’s at daycare. I’ve been taking her to an art class, and we both laugh when, by the end, she’s covered herself in paint. As time passes, I think we’ll be able to increase those happy moments. I’m going to try. Until then, it’s a comfort to know that I married into a Jewish family, the members of which really like chopped liver!

Growing up as a competitive gymnast, I looked forward to the day I would have a daughter and enroll her in her first gymnastics class. Now, I’m basking in the experience of watching her run around the gym. She is only 16 months old, but she loves to walk across the balance beam, jump with two feet into the foam pit, and somersault down the cheese mat.

The facility we attend is incredible, the coaches are excellent, and the programs they offer for little ones continue to impress me. Toward the end of our first session, they even had a show for each child to show off their new skills to friends and family. The show was adorable, and at the end, the coaches set up the podium and an impressive backdrop, perfect for a picture-taking opportunity. Then, each child was called up, one at a time, to stand on the first place podium.

And they each received a trophy.

Wait. What? A TROPHY?

Now, I don’t want to discount the incredible job the gym did to make the show a special experience for the kids. But I couldn’t believe the children received trophies. I’m sure other gyms and other sports are doing the same thing. But I couldn’t help but ask myself: How did we get here? How did we get to the point where children simply need to show up to receive recognition and a trophy? I would have been more than happy with a little paper certificate that simply stated that my daughter completed her first gymnastics class. If they wanted to put more details on the certificate, Audrey’s might have said, “Great job having only three tantrums while waiting for your turn today compared to the 15 tantrums you had your first class. You are learning patience!”

As a child, I received paper certificates each time I learned a new skill. Mine might have said, “First cartwheel!” or “Walked across the high beam!” I’ve kept these tiny notes, and seeing the various milestones brings back many great memories. I worked very hard to accomplish each skill that earned me a certificate.

If I dig a little deeper in my keepsake box, I will find the medals and trophies I earned for placing in competitions — awards for the hours of hard work I put into my practice at the gym. If I showed up to the competition, did my best, and did not place, I simply received a hug and praise from my coach and family. I learned that although I didn’t “win” that day, I could keep practicing, and I would get better and better. Even if I never placed at a competition, I was learning about making lifelong friends, the discipline it takes to improve, discovering the importance of time management to balance school and practice, being a part of a team, and having fun!

But what if I had been given a trophy for showing up at a competition, or even just practice, for that matter? My daughter will likely receive countless trophies, medals, awards, and ribbons for showing up. I hope I can teach my daughter that while showing up is a great start, to reach your goals and make a difference, you have to put the work in too.

Showing up for gymnastics will not help you master the cartwheel. You have to spend time working on each skill if you want to be better at it.

Showing up at school is not enough to learn to be a great reader. You have to practice and read countless books.

Showing up at work will not teach you to be the best you can be and lead to a raise. You have to commit to your responsibilities, show up on time, seek out opportunities to improve yourself, and do your job well to earn a promotion or raise.

Showing up in a relationship will not lead to a long-term, healthy relationship. You have to invest your time into the other person, maintain open communication, be happy with yourself, and work together to problem solve when challenging times arise.

Simply showing up is a great start, but it’s not enough.

Every parent wants their child to feel special. But isn’t it more important to help our kids learn how to cope with losing when things don’t go perfectly in their particular sport, activity, or hobby? I want to teach my daughter to be resilient and overcome failure with dignity and perseverance. I will comfort her when she learns the difficult lesson that you cannot be the best at everything, and, in fact, you might not be THE best at anything. But you can still be great! And isn’t that the best lesson of all?

How do you navigate the world of over-recognition? How can we teach our children the essential lessons that we learned as kids?