mamaWhat’s in a name?

Well, if the name is some version of a word that refers to that woman who gave you birth (or in some cases the one whom you love as much even if she didn’t give birth to you herself), there is a lot evidently.

In honor of Mother’s Day, I thought I’d talk a little bit about the progression of this name in my household.  The snapshot of the moment looks like this:  Mom, Mom, Mother, Mommy, Mama (or Mom-mom).  That’s what my girls call me.  I know there will be a day when they will all probably call me just Mom, assuming they call me at all.  Right now, I’m rather holding onto some of the other titles hoping they don’t pass me by too quickly without me appreciating them enough.

It all starts out pretty much the same.  A cute bubble-blowing baby who is fascinated with her toes will one day utter a syllable that may be just about anything but to a mother’s ear, it is MA.  And she goes crazy!  She said my name!  I heard it!  The baby said MA!  (This, for the record, is even sweeter if the baby hasn’t yet said DA.)  Eventually, that syllable does resemble the word Ma.  How sweet is it to know that your baby recognizes you through language?

Eventually Ma becomes Mama.  Oh, I love Mama.  It’s baby talk, but it’s clearly, indisputably, a designation for only ME.  I am Mama.  The word Mama comes out when she cries and is in need of comfort.  Mama is called upon to rescue her when her sister is trying to color her in with markers or roll her up in the rug.  Mama is important and necessary, all-knowing and all-doing.  Mama is a good phase.  I love being Mama.

The transition from babyhood to toddlerhood, in this house, seems to be marked by my moniker changing from Mama to Mommy.  I don’t really understand how they all know to do this, but they do.  Maybe from books or TV?  However it happens, each time it does happen.  I turn from Mama to Mommy and I’m OK with this.  Mommy is still cute, it retains some of its babyishness.

I know a few things about why Mommy might become preferred to Mama.  It is easier for a tantruming daughter to draw it out into a full wail “Moooommmeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…….”  It’s easier to repeat a million times in a row while pulling on my pant leg and trying to get me to talk to her instead of the person on the phone.  “Mommy?  Mommy?  Mommy?  Mommy?  Mommy?  Mommy?  Mommy?”  It’s easier to scream from the bathroom in desperation “MOMMEEEEEEE- I need you to WIPE me!”

There are days I never want to hear Mommy again.  There are days I swear if I hear it even just ONE more time, my head would literally explode right there (literally!).

But then one day Mommy gives way to Mom and it takes me only about 2 seconds to miss Mommy and yearn to have it back.  I think the transition from Mommy to Mom means something but I can’t quite put my finger on it.  It means I’ve become less important, somehow.  I’m needed less.  I’ve gone from 2 syllables to 1 – my role diminished just like my title.  I’m just MOM.  Instead of being her everything, instead of being in the starring role, I’m suddenly just the stage manager.  Behind the scenes.  Necessary to make it all happen but not called out for a bow at the end of the day.

It’s only when Mom gives way to Mother (or, more accurately, muh-THER! said with that exact right amount of girl-attitude) that I miss Mom.  Gawd, I hate the muh-THER phase.  Ugh.  If you’re lucky, that doesn’t last too terribly long.  Following that, one is happy to be returned to Mom status once again.

Then, as they get bigger and busier and more independent and less available, sometimes you’re just glad to be called upon at all.  Even if it’s “Hey, you.” well, you’ll take it.  That’s why college kids get away with sucking up so much cash from their parents.  It’s the way the parent continues to hear her name.  “Mom, can I have some cash to get me through until payday?”  “Mom, I can’t quite cover rent, can you help me out?”  And you’re glad to because, well, because she said that magic word.  MOM.

I know that there is this attitude that motherhood isn’t well-appreciated in this country, in this world.  That our value isn’t fully recognized.  That it’s somehow not enough to identify ourselves as “just” moms, or to be stay-at-home moms, or mommy bloggers or whatever.

To me, it’s enough.  When someone asks me who I am, I identify myself as Linda, wife and mother.  Those are the roles that define me.  The rest of the roles I play are just supporting ones.  My starring role, the one I want on the playbill, is MOM, MOTHER, MOMMY, MAMA, MA.  And no matter what my child calls me, when I look at her I clearly see every age and every stage of her life… I see her as a baby, a toddler, a preschooler, a child, a pre-teen, a teen, and in a couple of wonderful cases, I already get to see my child as a grown woman.

I don’t care what they call me, as long as they call me.

Happy Mother’s Day to all you mamas and mommies and mammies and mothers and matres and whatever-other-name you might be called.

Plus a very special postscript to those of you who are mothers to be, those trying to get pregnant, those who get pregnant easily but have had difficulty staying pregnant, those who are trying to adopt, those who are both trying to get pregnant and trying to adopt…  To anyone who has motherhood in her heart but not yet in her life or had motherhood in her life and lost it – I think of you and wish nothing more than swift success in your journey and peace in your hearts.  Happy Mother’s Day to you, too.  I hope that one day soon your arms embrace the results of your heart’s most precious wish.

And another shout out to those who are missing their own mothers, either because they’ve left this world or in cases where they are still here yet physically or emotionally far-removed.  It’s surely difficult for you to mourn that which you do not have while also trying to celebrate that which you do.  Strength to you…

Man, this motherhood stuff is complex, huh?