It’s Just a Name
My oldest turned eight last week and the very next day my name went from “Mommy” to “Mom”. I pretended not to notice. Surly he was just calling me “Mom” in front of his friends and as soon as the party was over my old moniker would resurface. It has been over a week and I am still being called “Mom”.
I’m trying not to let it break my heart. After all he is getting older and starting to loosen the seams on the apron strings. I should be happy in his confidence to make these changes. It was just yesterday he was clinging to my leg or gripping the car seat because he didn’t want to go to someone’s birthday party. It seemed like I was being suffocated and now I can’t believe I didn’t find that neediness more endearing. Funny how that feeling of suffocation transfers from a young mother to her young adolescent.
I haven’t let on to the change. I’ve just carried on like usual. I’ve even taken steps to update my vernacular and stopped referring to myself in the third person, “Mommy’s going to the bathroom now”. He was evidently hoping for a bigger reaction from me because today he pulled me aside and said, “You know MOM I’m too old to call you Mommy. I call you MOM now.” “Yes you are,” I affirm him and give him a little wink.
A wink of confidence for him and a wink to hold back the emotion of watching my boy grow up and spread his wings.