My name is not mom

As babies, I always referred to myself around my kids as momma.  To me, that is my most favorite term for a mother and its a traditional first word.  Ma-ma-ma-ma, isn’t the first word either of my kids said, but it was number two or three for sure.  As Brady gets older, slowly, gradually I have heard less and less ‘momma’ and more ‘mommy’.  I’ve come to adore mommy just as much from that sweet little mouth.

‘Mom’, in my book, was always reserved for older kids – much older kids.  ‘Mom’ is something you hear from a pre-teen, a teenager, an adult.  Definitely not what you would hear from my sweet and innocent toddler.  The toddler that still runs to me each and every time he even stubs his toe.

But here and there he’s said it.  “Mom!”  And my reply every single time?

“My name is not mom.”

My name is mommy or momma, forever and ever.  I think it’s so sweet when a grown man or woman still call their mother, mommy.  And at two-years old?  I am not even remotely close to accepting being called mom.  No way.  So I gently remind him that isn’t my name.  “You can call me mommy or momma, but not mom.”

Maybe its my want (all of our wants) to keep our babies, babies.  I say all the time that I want them to live with us forever and never move out.  For me I guess the word mom is just another step forward in them growing up that I don’t want to deal with.

And for now, since they’re still old enough for me to boss around, they will call me mommy.  And please, don’t get me started on the word ‘mother’.