Call me anything else but that

Sometimes I have an aversion to being called Mummy and if you are a mummy, particularly a fortysomething perimenopausal mummy like me, you know exactly what I am talking about. Matter of fact this could be the end of the blog right here, nuff said. But for clarity’s sake I will continue.

It was a looong (yes that typo was deliberate) day. You had a rough time on your job. After which you ran errands, you forgot your lunch on the countertop, so you are hangry, tired and frazzled.  To make matters worse, your hormones are kicking like they’re in a kung fu movie, you are both PMSing and hot flushing. Everything is happening at the same time. You finally made it home without pulling out your hair, you muster up enough strength to log yourself up the stairs. You rummage through your bag find your key and as you fling yourself through the door, the six-year-old greets you, ‘Good afternoon Mummy, can I have something to eat please?”  You look at his sweet face awash with innocence and is prevented from saying something delightfully colourful.

You do a quick check through the house because you know you did not leave this child at home alone.  You are forgetting things yes but not to the extent where you leave a minor by himself.  You realize Big Sister is there and so is Daddy. You give them a once-over and see they are not recent amputees, all limbs are still intact and fully functional. In fact, it was Big Sister who locked the door behind you.  So then HOW and WHY is Mummy the only one who can fix a sandwich.

‘Oh gorm child, I now reach home.  I’m still in my work clothes, ask your sister’.  You point the six-year-old in the direction of this father, ‘Look your father sit down right there’. Of course he ignores you and insists that you make him a sandwich. What is it with children, that makes them feel that Mummy alone can do things?

Moms, I know you relive this scenario much too often. Why are our names so easy to call? I will tell you why, it’s because of the power and magic that resonates in that name.  Everything will be alright when Mummy comes home.  Call Mummy, she will know exactly what to do.  The name Mummy holds magic and is synonymous with miracle-worker.  So if you’re a mummy and you’re reading this I salute you, if you’re a woman and you’re reading this I salute you.  I am not even going to pretend that I sometimes want to throw off this Mummy cape, but the reality is we are needed, and our time is not ours.  Our words, hugs and kisses soothe and right all the wrongs in our children’s world. So work that magic and appreciate the fact that your name means everything to someone and seeing you means things will be a okay.

Fact: Anytime I visit my mother’s house I head straight to the kitchen, open the fridge and ask her if there’s anything to eat. Tell me if this is you or a Caribbean thing, send me an email, leave a comment.