mama

Mommy.  It's a word I wanted to hear from my child's mouth even before I was pregnant. Before I was married. Before Jason.  I think it was just a dream of mine to be a mom as long as I can remember.  Probably because I had a great one.

Mommy.

Grant said it a lot.  Kyle said it a lot.

Reid says it.... occasionally.  He loves, however, to say Mama, which is always the last thing I told Jason I wanted Grant to call me when he finally started babbling.  We trained him to say "mom-me."

And I've never thought mama sounded as sweet and perfect as it does rolling off of sleepy-eyed barely concious little boy when I check on him before going to bed.  This just happened.  And I knew I needed to blog it as I would forget.

Mama.  It's perfectly sweet and precious from him as I am HIS mama.  The only one.  And he loves me. 

Now I switch tracks on this post:

I remember sitting in each of the boys' rooms when they were babies just holding their little bodies, swaddled up little newborns, nursing their final drinks before bed, or allowing me a few snuggles before I laid them on their baby pillow as a preschooler.  Each time I just look at them and start going over the features on my son's face, thinking to myself "I will remember this sweet nose.  I will remember those perfect eyes. I will remember this darling dimple." 

And, boy, do I try, but time goes so quickly, and they change soooo quickly.  Those little pearly baby teeth disappear and the dimples fade a little with the baby fat.  And I find myself forgetting but trying desperately to recall each thing.  I can't.  I try but then they start to blur together. 

And I become incredibly thankful to have started a family blog.  I can write down all of those things from their childhood that you WILL forget, no matter how much you want to cling to every memory.  It happens.  Yet I can come on here, click on 2008 and compare pictures of baby Kyle with baby Reid, and more easily recall those sweet moments gone all too soon. 

I have a facebook account that I deactivate frequently.  Nowadays, you nearly have to have an account for so many things that I unfortunately find myself needing to be there rather than wanting to peruse the posts.  When I do get on, it's a showcase festival of 1. your new baby pictures or vacation 2. your new achievement 3. some pyramid marketing sales pitch you're trying to sell to friends or 4. some cartoon or game you thought we'd all need to see.  It's not quality time.

Quality time is taking my son out of his bed while he's barely awake at 10:30 at night, and holding him tightly and giving him butterfly kisses and eskimo kisses and telling him I love him. He's just delirious enough to grin in return and say "I love you, Mama" in the sweetest, most soft voice possible only from a child.

THAT'S what matters, no matter if he will remember any of it in the morning.  Or if I will in a year.  So what.  Live and love and cherish and cuddle and try to remember the sweet love in your life.

I always dreamed of being Mommy but there's nothing sweeter than being a Mama, too.  It fills a place in my heart with love and happiness like nothing else.