There’s something about being called “Mama” that just sends a shiver down my spine. It’s like hearing nails on a chalkboard or the sound of a fork scraping a plate—utterly cringe-worthy! If I had to pick one word to sum it up, I’d go with cloying.
Every night, I thank my lucky stars that I jumped straight from “Mama” to “Mom,” completely bypassing the dreaded “Mommy.” It’s a mystery why this term gets under my skin. I hear “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy” from other kids all the time, and it doesn’t faze me. But when my own little darlings use it, my neck hairs stand on end, and I feel a chill. For me, “Mommy” and whining are like two peas in a pod; they both make me want to scream, “If you don’t knock it off this instant, I might just flip my lid!”
My kids are aware of my aversion, and they wield it like a weapon. Whether they’re being cheeky or trying to win an award for Most Annoying Child, they know that calling me “Mommy” will grab my attention. They have a knack for delivering their requests in the most irritating voice imaginable: “Sorry about that, Mommy, but when you gotta fart, you gotta fart!” or “Mommy, can we have M&Ms for breakfast?” Honestly, this tactic doesn’t get them what they want, but it does make my jaw clench tighter than a vice.
“Mommy” feels too sugary, too sticky sweet, and way too wholesome. It comes off as patronizing and carries cultural baggage that I can’t quite shake off. I can’t help but think of the movie “Mommie Dearest,” which scared the living daylights out of kids in the ’80s. When I think of “Mommy,” Joan Crawford’s terrifying eyebrows pop into my mind.
People don’t take “Mommy” seriously. It’s something you’d find on a novelty onesie or a Precious Moments figurine, or perhaps even those matching mom-and-me outfits. There’s a silliness to it that makes it easy to dismiss. A mommy gives hugs and tells you how special you are, but she’s not the one who lays down the law like your real mother does.
I’m many things, but sweet and wholesome? Absolutely not. Sure, I can cuddle and laugh with the best of them, but most of the time, I’m more about “get-your-act-together” than “let’s bake cookies.”
So if your idea of breakfast includes M&Ms—hey, I’m not against it—here’s a little advice: Don’t call me Mommy.
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In summary, the term “Mommy” just doesn’t sit well with me. It feels too sweet and not serious enough for the role I play. So, if you’re looking for a treat like M&Ms for breakfast, just remember: Don’t call me Mommy!