Kindergarten Countdown: T minus 10 days. (Vodka is chilling. For the coma I am planning on putting myself in that day. That day that my barren uterus and I get back into my car and drive around in lonely circles until 1:15.)
Every morning when my dad would leave for work I would ride my pink banana seater bike as fast as I could alongside his van until I could no longer keep up. When I would finally stop I'd wave furiously and yell "Bye, Daddy! Have a good day, Daddy!" as the back of his van disappeared around the corner. He would honk and wave out his window and I would go back inside.
Back inside to Mother.
It remained this way - Daddy and Mother (or Mom) through most of my adolescence. I don't remember exactly when Mommy became Mom or Mother, but I do recall that I clung to Daddy for years. Until he gave me too many good reasons to move on to other (ahem) "names" for him.
I asked my mom recently at what age I stopped calling her Mommy.
"Around five or six" she answered. To my dismay.
Because Savannah will be six in two months (HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE?? WOE. DISTRESS. SADNESS.).
And I can't bear the thought of her little high-pitched voice not calling me Mama as she has with the exact same cadence since she was 9 months old...MAma. Like a little lamb's bleat.
I can't bear the thought of her regarding me with disdain; of calling me Mother. As in, Mother, you're as dumb as a bag of hair.
But, I know it's on its way. I know that that is the price I will pay for having a daughter: raising a Daddy's girl. I know he will remain Daddy while I will be demoted to Mother. ...On a good day.
Chris will be the treat while I will be the obligation. Chris will be the fun while I will be the work. Chris will retain the levity of Daddy and I will become the burden of Mother.
Which makes the next few years all the more important to me. I know we will soon have an age old dynamic between us - teenage daughter and mother - and I want more than ever to savor the time I have with her adoration. Because today is a good day.
Today I am still MAma.
I came across this little poem and while I normally roll my eyes at these (because I am very sensitive and caring) this one grabbed me by my throat. Seriously. Enjoy.
*Just for this morning, I am going to step over the laundry, and pick you up and take you to the park to play.
*Just for this morning, I will leave the dishes in the sink, and let you teach me how to put that puzzle of yours together.
*Just for this afternoon, I will unplug the telephone and keep the computer off, and sit with you in the backyard and blow bubbles.
*Just for this afternoon, I will not yell once, not even a tiny grumble when you scream and whine for the ice cream truck and I will buy you one if he comes by.
*Just for this afternoon, I won't worry about what you are going to be when you grow up, or second guess every decision I have made where you are concerned.
*Just for this afternoon, I will let you help me bake cookies and I won't stand over you trying to fix them.
*Just for this evening, I will hold you in my arms and tell you a story about how you were born and how much I love you.
*Just for this evening, I will let you splash in the tub and not get angry.
*Just for this evening, I will let you stay up late while we sit on the porch and count all the stars.
*Just for this evening, I will snuggle beside you for hours and miss my favorite TV shows. (That is love right there. No joke.)
*Just for this evening when I run my finger through your hair as you pray, I will simply be grateful that God has given me the greatest gift ever given.
*I will think about the mothers and fathers who are searching for their missing children, the mothers and fathers who are visiting their children's graves instead of their bedrooms, and mothers and fathers who are in hospital rooms watching their children suffer senselessly, and screaming inside that they can't handle it anymore.
*And when I kiss you good night I will hold you a little tighter, a ittle longer. It is then, that I will thank God for you, and ask Him for nothing, except one more day.