That’s My Name

As much as I detest trolls, sometimes I grudgingly have to admit their asinine comments make me pause and consider.

Such was the troll that left this comment on Maria’s (BOREDMommy) blog the other day:

Why is it that you call yourselves “mommies”? It’s infantile, like being called a girl instead of a woman. If giving birth (or adopting) and raising a child is so important, why don’t you insist on the dignity of the word “parent”? Or “mother” — if you insist on focusing on gender as well? I am a parent and I was “mommie” only to my children and then only when they were young. No wonder men and childfree women don’t take you seriously: You are endlessly self-absorbed, boring, juvenile, and have nothing to say for yourselves beyond your reproductive status and childrearing.

OK, I have to admit that my first thought was, ‘*snort* Wow…..bitter much?’

But then I stopped.  Do I mind being called a ‘Mommy’ or even lumped in with ‘Mommy bloggers’?

You know… I really don’t.

To me ‘mother’ or even ‘parent’ is a cold, impersonal, standoffish word.

And Vista never refers to me as ‘Mother’.  Ever.  That would just be weird.

To her I’m ‘Mama’ and ‘Mommy’.  So do I associate with that name?  You bet.  Because, as far as my 2 year old is concerned, that is my name.  I have no other identity other than Mommy.  She doesn’t know me as Jenn, same as she doesn’t know Daddy as Bil.  We are Mommy and Daddy.

And I love the simplicity of that.

To me it’s not infantile, it’s innocence at it’s very best.  It speaks to a time when your parents are not adults put on this earth for the express purpose of oppressing you.  It is that sweet time between self awareness and total independence when your child reaches for you to know they are safe, secure, loved.

In time, I’m sure my name will morph. It’ll go from Mommy, to Mom, to OMG! MoooooooooommmmmmGawdYou’reEmbarassingME!

But right now, I’m thrilled to be Mommy.  And I couldn’t possibly think of a sweeter sound than my daughter calling my name.

Are you proud to be a Mommy too?  Head over to BOREdMommy’s site and link up your own post.

Like Mother, Like Daughter

Christmas time, for what ever reason, always makes me think about my relationships with people.

Those that know me well, know I’m adopted.

I was 3 months old when I was adopted and I can’t remember a time that I didn’t know.  My parents were always very forthright about it and it was something to be celebrated, not hidden in our house.

When I was 21, through a bizarre series of events, I got the opportunity to meet my birth mother.  And eventually her whole family.

I am a classic study of nature vs nurture.

I never really fit into my family growing up.  I feel bad for my parents because I was so different from them, they just had no idea what to do with me.

Then I met my birth mom, Deb.

Lets just say the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.

I don’t look all that much like her, but personality wise?  We are two peas in a pod.

We have the same sarcastic sense of humor.

The same dry wit.

The same irritation with what we view as stupidity.

People who have never met me can pick me out as her daughter within minutes of talking to me.

Weirder still?

My aunt, my birth mother’s youngest sister, and I are practically carbon copies.  It freaks people out because we grew up in two different worlds not knowing each other.  But we talk the same, have the same mannerisms, the same gestures.  Her husband hates when we get together because we finish each others sentences and constantly say the same thing at the same time.

So any scientist says there’s no base for the nature argument with adoptees and that children are a ‘fresh slate’ can bite me.

What made me think of all this was the difference between the two Christmas cards I got from my mom and my birth mom.

In the card my mom sent to Bil and I she wrote in

“Wishing you a very Merry Christmas and all the best for a happy, healthy, and prosperous New Year”

The card we got from my birth mom today had the following written in it:

May all your Christmas lights stay lit
May all your presents be a hit
May joy and laughter deck your halls
And may no one bust your Christmas balls

Any questions about who gave birth to me?  I thought not.

 Like Mother, Like Daughter


A Mother’s Version of Imagine

(with apologies to John Lennon)

Imagine there’s no crying
It’s easy if you try
No toys scattered below us
Above us only wine
Imagine all the mothers
A little less crazy

Imagine there’s no crankiness
It isn’t hard to do
Nothing to scream or cry for
And no back-talking too
Imagine all the mothers
Having just one day of peace

You may see that I’m a mother
Mistreated and maligned
Maybe one day you’ll join me
You too can lose your mind

Imagine no bickering
I wonder if you can
No need for timeouts
Or fighting in the van
Imagine all the children
Sharing all the toys

You may see that I’m a mother
Mistreated and maligned
Maybe one day you’ll join me
You too can lose your mind

Find Me


I’m Connected