Ah, the nostalgia of parenting! I still vividly recall the moment each of my three boys first uttered “mama.” It was like watching a slow-motion film, their tiny lips forming those magical sounds—“mm-mmaa mm-mmaa mm-mmaa.” I was practically on the edge of my seat, ready to celebrate my new title. The emotional punch that simple word packed was extraordinary.
Mama. The moment they said it, I felt like I had been awarded the title of their One True Love.
As my boys grew, “Mama” quickly evolved into “Mommy.” Mommy was the one who changed diapers, nursed them back to health, and comforted them when they awoke in the middle of the night. Mommy also played chef (even when they turned their noses up at my culinary masterpieces), took them on adventures to the library and the playground, and helped them navigate their first days of school. With Mommy by their side, they learned to read and ride bikes, gradually gaining independence while I cheered them on from the sidelines.
Then, on what seemed like just another ordinary day, it hit me. I can’t remember the exact moment, but one of my boys—maybe my oldest—couldn’t find his baseball cleats or needed a ride to a friend’s house. Suddenly, without warning, I was no longer “Mommy.” I had transitioned to “Mom.”
I didn’t give it much thought until recently when my youngest, who is a delightful five and a half years younger than his next sibling, still calls me “Mommy.” He often offers those adorable “I love you, Mommy” moments that melt my heart. But I know the clock is ticking. Soon enough, he’ll switch to the casual “I love you” of a preteen, or the shy rush of a teenage boy, and “Mommy” will be a thing of the past.
It’s inevitable. My role will shift again.
Where “Mommy” once held him close, tending to every whim, “Mom” will gradually step back, allowing him the space to learn, to succeed, to stumble, and to grow into his true self. I’ll still be there, just a little further away, cheering him on from the sidelines.
Being their Mom is a privilege I will always treasure. I’ll carry that title for the rest of our lives. Yet, a small part of me will always yearn for those days of being their cherished “Mommy.”
So, for now, when my youngest whispers “I love you, Mommy,” I pause. I soak it all in, letting those words nourish my soul. I pull him close and reply, “Mommy loves you too.”
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In summary, the transition from “Mommy” to “Mom” is a poignant journey filled with love, growth, and the bittersweet nature of parenting. While I embrace my evolving title, a piece of my heart will always long for those early years.