My daughter’s first word was “Da-da” (said on my husband’s birthday, no less…what a daddy’s girl). Her second word was “Wee-ca” (Willie cat…our cat). Somewhere around her 10th word was when she finally said “Ma-ma”. But even after she said it, the word was uttered rarely, if ever. I spent the first 18 months or so of her life desperately longing to hear her call my name.
My son, if you don’t know, is actually my step-son. So, it was years before he called me Mommy (first it was a garbled version of Colleen, then it was Mommy Colleen and around the age of three I became “Mommy”). I cried when he first said it…it was an utterly amazing feeling.
Now, I feel downright guilty to admit that there are times I feel like I am going to scream if I hear the word “mommy” one more time. From morning to night, it is always mommy…Mommy, milk! Mommy, come! Mommy, can I have a snack? Mommy, can I go on a bike ride with Daddy? (SERIOUSLY?? He’s RIGHT THERE…ask HIM!) mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy…..
I love that my kids need me. I love that my kids love me to death. But there are times that I just want a break from all the name calling.
Call me selfish. Call me terrible. Call me ungrateful. Just don’t call me mommy… at least not while you`re screaming, whining or crying. I`ve heard it enough today!