I never thought I'd be that sappy kind of mother. You know the type. She buries her face in old onesies when she finds them at the bottom of the closet and doesn't come up coughing from the scent of mold growing on super-old spit-up stains.
OK, I'm NOT that kind of mother.
But I am the kind who hates being called "Mom." I prefer "Mommy," thank you very much.
I just realized it recently, when my three- (almost four-) year-old stopped, looked at me and said "Moooom" in a voice that sounded almost teenaged. No, I decided, Mom is not for me. At least not yet.
As long as she is still saying "Mommy," we are pre-pre-menstraul, pre-pull that skirt down so it covers SOMETHING and pre- Lady, you may have been on earth for several decades, but you know nothing about life.
My colleague Madeline laid out the Mom, Mommy, Mama, Mother and all their male alternatives discussion last week, but I realized there isn't just one in most families. If yours is anything like mine, you went through at least two names for your parents, maybe three or four.
I'm still on the first name, and I'd like it to last a good bit longer. Call it a little girl desperate to grow up and a mommy desperately trying to hold on to time.
Image: Amazon
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