Apparently mah oldest child has decided to stop calling me “Mama”. He is now calling me “Mom”. Wha? How did that come about? I don’t wanna be “Mom”. That’s what you say when you are a teenager rolling your eyes at something your Mom said. I’m nowhere near ready for that yet! He is not even four! I mean really.
I remember the day we brought him home from the hospital like it was yesterday. I was scared to death. Putting him in his carseat for the first time was a nightmare. It must have taken me ten minutes! Those first few days were a little overwhelming, to say the least.
One of the girls I work with is a new Mom. She is nervous as all get out. Her bebe is beautiful. She asks me questions and I tell her what I did, or what I would do. I don’t remember being that nervous, but surely I was! She is a good Mama. Her son is a happy baby.
I like to think that I am a good Mama, too. Both of mah sons are happy and well loved. I love them more than mah own life. Which is as it should be.
But I still don’t want to be Mom.