“My Name is Not Mom”

I am a mom – and proud to be one, with three wonderful kids, all grown up now. But I do remember those moments when they were young. Those cringing, almost-to-the-point of hysteria moments when I felt like I almost forgot what my name, my real name, sounded like.

“Mommy,” this…

“Mommy,” that…

It’s what I heard all…day…loong! when I was a stay-at-home parent.  

I clearly remember one rainy summer afternoon, and all three of my kids had discovered and then devoured an entire pack of chocolate chip cookies, mind you, a pack I’d been hiding for myself on my last trip to the grocery store, hiding it on the upper shelf and way, way back in the corner of my pantry because it always seemed that they’d be gone before I’d even had the sweet tooth to get one in the first place.

And my children, these three menacing kids, had discovered the pack, and then turning into simply im-po-ssi-ble creatures on that very afternoon with a sugar rush that felt like an eternity.  

I just could not take it anymore.

“Mommy…”

“Mommy…”

“Mommy…”

And so, before Hysteria attempted at creeping up my spine, destined to reach my at-the-moment sane head, I desperately reached out for the phone and flash-dialed my sister.

Thank God she answered quick. And to be frank, I didn’t even let her say, “Hello?” Instead, I barged in with an explosive, “Say my name!”

“What?” she said, clearly confused.

“Say my name. Say my name please…please!”

And as wonderful as my sister is, and without having to give her any other explanation, she said it. My beautiful name, Gigi. Not Mommy, not Mom. Just Gigi.

I almost cried. In fact, I think I did. And my sister comforted every single tear shed that afternoon.

“I know, Sis,” she said, her voice quivering. And then after, she too said, “Please, say mine.”

And I did.

Years later, I still tell the story to my kids, and of course they laugh hysterically. There’s that word again. Hysteria – lol!   

My dear friend, let’s not forget that within this beautiful journey called motherhood, we remind ourselves that inside us there is also a woman. A woman with a name, with wants and needs. And so, I encourage you to step away for a moment, to take a breather, to pursue a passion, or simply sit in silence to reclaim your own identity. And then, you’ll return to your children with all the love, compassion, and patience that you always give.