Mother

Olivia has taken to calling me ‘mother’. As in, “Mother, will you please carry my coat while I hop along beside you in this mall?”

Or, “Mother, I am very thirsty.”

Seriously. She says this stuff.

I have no idea where she picked it up. I usually answer her with, “Daughter, I’d be delighted to carry your coat.”

She laughs as if we’ve shared a hysterical joke.

She’s funny, that one.

Her sister still calls me ‘mom’. I like that too.

My friend Julie and I were talking one day about when we finally felt like a mom. I think it takes most of us time to really feel like mothers. Sure, those endless night wakings went a long way toward making me feel insane but like a mother? Maybe not.

There were so many times when I wondered when Alyssa’s ‘real’ mother would show up and take her away from me.

But the moment I was driving and reached back to take some garbage from Alyssa made me feel like a real mom. I was the mom, I was the one who was gathering the trash.

Julie told me that for her it was when she caught puke in her hands that was erupting from her daughter’s mouth so it wouldn’t land on her aunt’s carpet. Ewww and yet…yes, I get it.

Maybe this whole ‘mother’ thing is Olivia’s way of reminding me that I am, indeed, the mother.

How very lucky I am that that is the case.