|She can call me Mommy. You can't.|
But take a look at my mailboxes -- email and regular -- and you'd think I was in it to win it in the race against those loony Duggars.
"Dear Mommy Blogger!"
"Invitation for Mommy."
See what I mean? All these people, clamoring around, shouting for Mommy's undivided attention.
I must have given birth to them all, right? Only, I didn't. Of course I didn't! Because we decided when my daughter was around 2 that she'd have to make do with the dog if she wanted any siblings. If she insists on more, she'll have to start inventing imaginary friends (Sybil Sager has a certain ring to it, doesn't it?).
So what's with all these people calling me Mommy?
Do they have a few screws loose? Or are they just crossing a rather clear line in the sand?
I am a mother who is proud to have added to the world's population. I love my kid a good 50 times more than I love chocolate chip cookies fresh from the freezer (and that's saying something).
But that day spent in the maternity ward hasn't taken away the me I was before I gave birth. I am still Jeanne, still writer, photographer, reader, vegetarian, dog-lover, spider-despiser ...
I am still a professional, a woman able to make decisions on everything from the color of paint for the bedroom to how much money to set aside for retirement.
That hasn't changed.
Why has my name?
There are two people in this world allowed to call me Mommy. My daughter because, well, duh! My husband because the more often you use your spouse's given name in front of a 7-year-old, the more tempted she is to use it, and I'm nowhere near ready for that stage.
As for the rest, I have a few suggestions. Jeanne works. Mrs. Sager. I even still answer to Ms. Eschenberg (a certain former teacher knows he doesn't have to learn a new name; I still pop to attention).
If you want to call someone Mommy, pick up the phone. Dial your own. I'm sure she'd love to hear from you.
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