Maybe you’ve seen this before.
First of all, I have no idea why my kids call me “Mama.” I’m sure I called my Mom “Mommy” when I was very small, but as long as I can remember, she’s always been “Mom.” When my son was a baby, I referred to myself as, “Mommy.” Somewhere along the line, he picked up “Mama.” Of course, his baby sister has followed suit.
When my kids were very young, no place was off limits. At some point, I decided I am entitled to privacy in the bathroom, so now I lock the door. As soon as the door shuts, I hear, “Mama. Mama. Mama.” It then turns into “Mama!” “What?” “Mama!” “What?” “Mama!” “WHAT!?!??!?!”
It makes me insane. I find myself thinking, “Can’t anyone do anything for themselves around here? Seriously?!” Sometimes, they don’t even try to figure out where I am, or give me time to answer in between “Mama’s.”
But, then I take a breath. In early 2007, I was single. I didn’t even have a pet. I had job responsibilities, etc., but I had a lot of freedom. Family and friends cared about me, and wanted me around, but no one truly needed me. Fast forward, 2.5 years later, I had a husband, a baby and a dog. Now, I have a husband, two kids, a dog, a cat, a number of fish and three ducklings. Lots of changes in a relatively short period of time.
When I take a breath, I think what a privilege and blessing it is to be needed. While my kids will need me, even when they’re grown, there will be periods when they’re teenagers that they probably won’t even want my company. This time of being needed on a daily basis will pass quickly. While I can’t promise that I won’t have moments of grouchiness and grumpiness, I hope I always remember to take that breath and be grateful.