Why The F*** Won’t You Say Mama

Oh, hello daughter of mine.

Yes, I did say that. Hello, daughter of mine. Remember that? That time I spent 50 hours in labor with you? That time I spent ten months pregnant with you? Sacrificing my body, hair, feet, and face for you? Yes, face. What do you think hormones do?

I’m so proud of you, you smart thing. I’m so happy that you can say “book”, “cat”,”dog”, “ball”, and most importantly, you can roar like a dinosaur on command. Oh yeah, and “Daddy.” You can definitely say “Daddy”.  A lot. You sure do say it a lot.

I don’t want to seem upset. I don’t want to seem ungrateful for the intelligence you either actually have or I’ve projected that you have. I don’t want to seem like I’m not happy that you’re a great sleeper or you snuggle when you see me.

I do, however, have a small bone to pick.

Why can’t you just freaking say mama?

I feel like sock is way more useless than mama. Shoe, who even needs that? Roaring is DEFINITELY something we can part with. I take that back– super useful. Keep it forever.

But why can’t you just say “mama”? People can tell me over and over again how difficult Ms are, but you can say “moo”! You can say “myyyyy”. What is it about mama?

I’m starting to think it’s out of spite. No, I know. You’re only 16 months and the chances of you understanding how to manipulate and be vengeful are pretty slim, but I see that smirk when I keep saying, “Ma-ma…ma-ma” and you respond with resounding “DADDYYYYY!!!!” Oh, I know what you’re doing, daughter of mine. I know what you’re doing.

Mischievous baby
There’s some mischief behind those sweet eyes.

I tried to get you back by calling you different names, like Louise or Genevieve. You just laughed. You knew what I was up to.

I tried to ignore it. I tried to tell myself that your constant shrieks of “Daddy” were cute. Mama will come. That did not work.

So, dear little angel, I am here to beg you. Please just say “mama.” Please just give me one little “mama”. I’d love it to be with a smile, but if it’s a sassy sideglance with your hand on your hip, I’ll take it. I’ll even take a sarcastic eyeroll with “Maaaaa-maaaaa.” Literally. Just give me something.

I don’t want to guilt you. I don’t want to, really, but my c-section scar is pretty huge. Did I mentioned I had preeclampsia while I was pregnant? Once again, I REALLY don’t want to guilt…but I really want you to say mama more. All the cards are on the table.

I know you love me. I love you. Say mama.

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