Nov 14 2008
The Invisible Umbilicus
97 times. Seriously.
I must have heard “Mommy” called at least 97 times today in various tones, inflections and states of urgency. “Mommy” when someone’s hungry, “Mommy” when someone fell down, “Mommy” when someone suffered an injustice, “Mommy” just to pinpoint Mommy’s exact location like a makeshift radar.
That’s my name, don’t wear it out.
But of course they did. They wore it to shreds. I’m actually considering a name change, something a little more dignified, maybe “Mother” or “Mama” with an accent on the second “Ma”.
It also amazes me how no matter where I’m hiding working in the house, my children have a way of always rooting me out. As if there’s an invisible tether between us that spools them back to me like little yo-yos, a bungee that makes it so that at any given time all four kids are forced to gravitate in to whatever room I’m in, usually talking at the same time. Sometimes they follow me in to the bathroom, sometimes they end up literally in my lap, which coincidentally makes it difficult to eat or enjoy any kind of privacy.
Tonight we tried to watch the shuttle launch. My husband set up a ladder and we were all going to perch up on the roof to see the rockets cross the sky. It was a good idea in theory, except at least three of the kids were terrified of climbing up, but heartbroken at the thought of being excluded and earthbound. Plenty of screaming and panicking ensued, which always makes for an entertaining family outing. Eventually we saw the flame shoot across the sky, then disappear, but by then at least two of the children were barefoot and barechested and cawing “Mommy” like nobody’s business.
I hear it’s quiet in space.
I think you have just sold me on the idea of going to space. And that is saying something, because I am so claustrophobic that I couldn’t even consider going on a cruise. But that quiet thing? That could really be a selling point for me. Do you think astronauts get to take showers without any kids barging in? I am so there!