Thursday, November 4, 2010

:::sniffle sniffle:::

I am not sure who authorized this "growing up" business, but I don't think I like it. Not one bit. Somehow, when I wasn't looking, I became Mom instead of Mama.  Oh sure, occasionally I am still Mama when she really needs something or has injured herself (and by "injured herself" I mean "came up with an excuse to have a band-aid").  But more and more, I am now known by the monosyllabic moniker Mom.  I imagine that some kid at school made fun of her or something (she often writes "Mama" on her drawings, after all) and then suddenly I lost the name I had waited so long to hear.

I had assumed she would at least make a pit stop at Mommy before heading straight to Mom.  I remember calling my mother Mommy until at least the third grade before graduating to calling her Mom.  Then came the teenage years where I called her other things under my breath, and then back to Mom again. 

To say that "kids grow up so fast" is such a hackneyed phrase and yet, they do.  My daughter can do so many things on her own now. Of course, there is at least an equal number of tasks she can't accomplish on her own, such as opening a fruit snack wrapper (no idea why this skill continues to elude her).  There is still plenty for me to do. 

Kindergarten seems to have sped up the pace of her development considerably.  Frankly, we think we liked her better when she was fully illiterate.  All of a sudden we can't spell stuff in front of her anymore. She reads fairly well for her age. Also, we have been surprised to learn that we are able to read most of what she writes.  Sometimes I sort through the ever-growing pile of paper in her room and find some of her scribblings.  She is making a "brthdea party" list of invitees.  So far only three kids have made the cut.  Oh, did I mention her brthdea is six months away?  On the way home from the grocery store today, A started blathering on about how she wants her birthday party to be at Chuck E Cheese's.  I told her probably not, but let's talk about it after Christmas. "We're not talking about it today," I stated as firmly as I could.  She pouted all the way home.

A few minutes later, I was busy hauling groceries in from the car.  After the third load or so, I found a handwritten note on the counter upon my return. "I want to toc about my brthdea," it said.

Heavens to murgatroid.

3 comments:

The Lovely One said...

How sweet! I can't wait until my Bug writes me little notes like that!

Beth said...

Jason's motor skills are low enough that writing eludes him....so I get 'notes' spelled out with the letters on the refrigerator. So far, they're all fun things like "I luv Momy". (And I graduated from Mama to Mommy soon after he turned two. Thankfully, I'm still Mommy. Like you, I'm definitely not ready to be "Mom.")

Word Verification: Fierbaly--the way a kindergartner might spell fireball.

Anonymous said...

So Funny! My daughter is 16 now and my wife went from being called "Mommy" to "Moo Moo". Just picture a 16 year old coming into the house and calling, "Moo! Are you home?" Fortunately I'm still "Daddy" and not "Doo-Doo".