Mama. Mommy. Umma.

Have two sweeter syllables ever been uttered from a baby’s mouth? I think not!

Because of E’s language delays, I didn’t get to hear her call me mommy until she was well past 3 years old. And even then, it was a stiff, rehearsed, “mommy” that was usually accompanied by some kind of command like, “mommy, do” or “mommy, stay”. She’s able to use the word pretty naturally now but she’s almost five years old… for me, it felt like I really missed out on hearing the baby-talk of mommy, mama, etc.

So when D started learning how to speak and learned that I was “mama” I was absolutely over the moon. And more recently, he’s transitioned from mama to a more traditional “mommy” in his adorable, high-pitched, baby boy voice and I can’t soak it up enough. He calls for me over and over – if he loses sight of me even though we’re both just hanging out at home; when he wakes up from his nap; if he’s bored and wants me to play with him…

Actually, to be honest, it can sometimes become a little too much. A little annoying. I find myself sometimes purposefully not responding back to his calls because my goodness, I’m just in the bathroom and can he please just give me 5 minutes alone? Or when he screams mommy and feels the need to constantly be touching some part of my body, even if all he’s doing is standing next to my knee while I shoot off a quick email on the computer. Oof, that’s another time when I wish he’d call for daddy or his sister or someone other than mommy. How about when I’m trying to cook dinner but he’s so attached, he yells “mommy!” and tries to stand in between me and the hot stove; and then when I try to extract him from said position he screams like a wild banshee at the top of his lungs until his dad comes and scoops him up or something? Yea, that’s another good example of when I don’t particularly like being mommy.

But then … but then, I remember. I remember the years I spent yearning to hear just those two simple syllables from E’s mouth. I remember waiting and waiting for her to say it and realizing that she wasn’t going to say it and then learning that the reason why she wouldn’t say it was because she was on the autism spectrum. I remember being pregnant with D, with a non-verbal E sitting at my feet, and being scared out of my mind that the baby-on-the-way would have the same developmental delays that she did. I remember all these things and then I’m so so so profoundly thankful that D is clingy and attached and annoying and won’t stop yelling for me “mommy, mommy, mommy!” Because at least he knows what he wants and he knows how to verbalize and he’s using the correct language to get his point across.

And not to mention, that this sweet 2-year old half-little boy/half-baby that is constantly searching for me is one day going to think that I’m not cool anymore. His smooth baby cheeks will be replaced with teenage pimples (*maybe – actually, neither J or I ever suffered from teenage acne). His chubby toddler feet will become hairy and stinky and definitely not kissable anymore, at least not by his mom. And his sweet tuft of fluffy baby hair will be sweaty and quite possibly too tall for me to lean over and sniff into.

So… I remember all these things and cherish this chaotic season of my life, when I’m the sun & moon to one little boy and all he ever wants is his mommy.