When "Mommy" is Not Music to My Ears
"Mommy". "Mommy". "Why are you sleeping Mommy?" "We're watching a movie Mommy" "Mommy, wake up!" "Mommy!" (giggle, giggle, tap, tap on my face).
I remember when Jack first started his sounds. Next, words started to form from the sounds. First, it was Da, then Da Da. And I'll admit, I was a bit jealous. Why Dada first? What about Mama? Sure, Dada may be easier to form from a baby's first sounds, but wasn't I the one who birthed him? Doesn't that give me dibs on hearing my name first? Never in my wildest dreams did I think there would come a time when "Mama", "Mommy", "Mom" would make me cringe.
Yet, here we were on this evening on a Monday. A rainy Monday, the kind of dreary rainy weather that makes you want to put on sweatpants, get comfortable, and watch a movie which was exactly my plan. On my way to pick up Jack tonight, I imagined cuddling up before bedtime with a movie and a popcorn alongside Jack who I hadn't seen since dropping him off 12 hours earlier at his daycare. It had been a long day. It seemed the perfect night to skip a bath, get into PJs, and relax in front of the T.V.
I go to pick Jack up at his friend's house to be greeted with his cries of disappointment that his mother had arrived. Of course, he wanted to stay. He wanted to finish his lego car he was building. He didn't want to leave. A deep breath in and a slow exhale, I patiently acknowledge his disappointment and kindly tell him he has to leave. If only it were that simple. I gently remind him that if he doesn't get going, he will miss his movie time he's come to expect before bedtime. Still not working. I firmly tell him it is time to go. Okay, a little progress towards the door. He's at least facing in the right direction. I proceed to pick up this 40 pound boy of mine, put his shoes on, and steer him in the direction of the door as it is TIME TO GO.
Into the car. Seatbelt buckled. He folds his arms, looks away from me, and lets out a grunt. A deep breath in and a slow exhale. I shut his door, walk around to my side and get into the car. I look back. No eye contact. I am clearly getting the silent treatment. And so we drive home in silence. I pull into the driveway and I hear "mommy?" Silent treatment over, I shut off the car, turn around with a big smile and say "yes, sweetie?" "Mommy, why can't I have the lego set Freddie has? I want it. I am sad I don't have one". So, on comes Life Lesson 101. Jack, "life is disappointing sometimes. We can't always get everything we want and we should be appreciative for what we have". Suddenly, my son's sweet voice resembles Caillou, the cartoon star who whines incessantly, his mother giving in to every request. A deep breath in and a slow exhale. Out of the car, into the house.
Teeth brushed, face washed, and PJs on. Ahhh. Now time to relax. Movie on. Jack is settled on one side of my bed, me on the other with kindle in hand. Finally a chance to put my feet up. "Mommy, I'm hungry". Of course you are I think to myself. I pull myself out of bed, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. It'll have to be cheerios. I no sooner give Jack his bowl of dry cheerios than I am seeing cheerios splatter to the ground and all over my bed. "Mommy look what you made me do". A deep breath in and a slow exhale. We clean up the cheerios and finally we are settled down to watch the movie. I lay my head down and my eyes shut. Finally, a chance to be still. "Mommy, mommy...why are you sleeping?" My head jerks up at the sound of Jack's voice. The movie is ending. It is time for bed.
We head into Jack's room, his book is read to him, song is sung. Time for Jack to close his eyes and get some sleep. Downstairs I go and suddenly, it's "Mommy !" "Mommy, my leg is itchy". Deep breath in and a slow exhale. I bring the after bite upstairs, apply it to his bug bit, and head into my room to collapse.
Mommy. The word I couldn't wait to hear Jack say. The word I identify myself with. The word that often is music to my ears. The word I always thought was perfect. However, in reality when you are lacking in energy, you are tired of all the papers you have to bring home from work, and you're beat, the word "mommy" can sound cumbersome. Because often with the word "mommy" comes a request for something whether it be for food, a drink, or anti itch cream there is a need to be filled. Of course, I want Jack's needs to be met and am glad (to a point) that he can verbalize what he needs. But, to be honest, sometimes the word "mommy" can be exhausting. It's not always perfect.
I remember when Jack first started his sounds. Next, words started to form from the sounds. First, it was Da, then Da Da. And I'll admit, I was a bit jealous. Why Dada first? What about Mama? Sure, Dada may be easier to form from a baby's first sounds, but wasn't I the one who birthed him? Doesn't that give me dibs on hearing my name first? Never in my wildest dreams did I think there would come a time when "Mama", "Mommy", "Mom" would make me cringe.
Yet, here we were on this evening on a Monday. A rainy Monday, the kind of dreary rainy weather that makes you want to put on sweatpants, get comfortable, and watch a movie which was exactly my plan. On my way to pick up Jack tonight, I imagined cuddling up before bedtime with a movie and a popcorn alongside Jack who I hadn't seen since dropping him off 12 hours earlier at his daycare. It had been a long day. It seemed the perfect night to skip a bath, get into PJs, and relax in front of the T.V.
I go to pick Jack up at his friend's house to be greeted with his cries of disappointment that his mother had arrived. Of course, he wanted to stay. He wanted to finish his lego car he was building. He didn't want to leave. A deep breath in and a slow exhale, I patiently acknowledge his disappointment and kindly tell him he has to leave. If only it were that simple. I gently remind him that if he doesn't get going, he will miss his movie time he's come to expect before bedtime. Still not working. I firmly tell him it is time to go. Okay, a little progress towards the door. He's at least facing in the right direction. I proceed to pick up this 40 pound boy of mine, put his shoes on, and steer him in the direction of the door as it is TIME TO GO.
Into the car. Seatbelt buckled. He folds his arms, looks away from me, and lets out a grunt. A deep breath in and a slow exhale. I shut his door, walk around to my side and get into the car. I look back. No eye contact. I am clearly getting the silent treatment. And so we drive home in silence. I pull into the driveway and I hear "mommy?" Silent treatment over, I shut off the car, turn around with a big smile and say "yes, sweetie?" "Mommy, why can't I have the lego set Freddie has? I want it. I am sad I don't have one". So, on comes Life Lesson 101. Jack, "life is disappointing sometimes. We can't always get everything we want and we should be appreciative for what we have". Suddenly, my son's sweet voice resembles Caillou, the cartoon star who whines incessantly, his mother giving in to every request. A deep breath in and a slow exhale. Out of the car, into the house.
Teeth brushed, face washed, and PJs on. Ahhh. Now time to relax. Movie on. Jack is settled on one side of my bed, me on the other with kindle in hand. Finally a chance to put my feet up. "Mommy, I'm hungry". Of course you are I think to myself. I pull myself out of bed, down the stairs, and into the kitchen. It'll have to be cheerios. I no sooner give Jack his bowl of dry cheerios than I am seeing cheerios splatter to the ground and all over my bed. "Mommy look what you made me do". A deep breath in and a slow exhale. We clean up the cheerios and finally we are settled down to watch the movie. I lay my head down and my eyes shut. Finally, a chance to be still. "Mommy, mommy...why are you sleeping?" My head jerks up at the sound of Jack's voice. The movie is ending. It is time for bed.
We head into Jack's room, his book is read to him, song is sung. Time for Jack to close his eyes and get some sleep. Downstairs I go and suddenly, it's "Mommy !" "Mommy, my leg is itchy". Deep breath in and a slow exhale. I bring the after bite upstairs, apply it to his bug bit, and head into my room to collapse.
Mommy. The word I couldn't wait to hear Jack say. The word I identify myself with. The word that often is music to my ears. The word I always thought was perfect. However, in reality when you are lacking in energy, you are tired of all the papers you have to bring home from work, and you're beat, the word "mommy" can sound cumbersome. Because often with the word "mommy" comes a request for something whether it be for food, a drink, or anti itch cream there is a need to be filled. Of course, I want Jack's needs to be met and am glad (to a point) that he can verbalize what he needs. But, to be honest, sometimes the word "mommy" can be exhausting. It's not always perfect.
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