Sweet Nothings in My Ear

Oh how I remember the first time the Big One called me “Mommy.” My heart skipped a beat that first time. I got all warm and mushy inside and just gushed with pride at this little creature and the fact that she called me “Mommy.”

You see I used to think “Mommy” was just a wonderful term of endearment. It meant she thought I was the greatest person ever. I could fix anything (hence the title of this here blog). I could make anything better. I could make the best treats and snacks, play the best games, do the best Dora impersonation and make generally everything bad go away.

Now I know that Mommy is merely the word that flows the easiest off of her little tongue no matter what the occasion. If she is hurt, tired, happy, sad, cranky, grumpy, angry, or just plain bored, “Mommy” is the first word that comes out of her mouth.

I suppose it’s better than some words that could come tumbling out of her mouth. I just wish for once that when she pooped in her pants, puked in her bed, bumped her head or scraped her knee that “Daddy!” would be the first word she said.

Who am I kidding? I would probably cry if {when} it happens. But this morning when she had been awake all of 10 minutes and I had heard varying forms of “Mommy” at least 100 times, I wished that Daddy was home to take the brunt of whatever she was whining/crying/screaming/laughing about.