No More Mama

It’s finally happened, the milestone I’ve been dreading has finally arrived:

I am no longer “Mama”.  I have been re-branded as “Mommy”.

My wee ones are babies no longer! <SOB!>

When they were just learning to speak, a couple of years ago, a well-meaning friend tried to teach them to call me Mommy, while I was taking a nap.  Thankfully, I was able to nip that in the bud, and after a few days, they were back to Mama.

Now, there is no going back.

They neatly use a fork and (toddler)knife.  They want to ‘help’ me floss their teeth.  They can use scissors.  They are learning how to write letters of the alphabet. They gargle after toothbrushing.

I can barely pick them up!  <WAIL!>

Don’t get me wrong, I rejoice in their continued growth and achievments, but I miss my little babies!  I didn’t get enough sweet baby cuddles!

Time flew quicker than I thought it would.

So it’s time to trot out this poem that I did not write, but it sure fits!   Except for the moth part.


Mother, oh Mother,

come shake out your cloth,

empty the dustpan,

poison the moth,

hang out the washing

and butter the bread,

sew on a button and make up a bed.

Where is the mother whose house

is so shocking?

She’s up in the nursery,

blissfully rocking.

“Oh, I’ve grown shiftless as Little

Boy Blue (lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

Dishes are waiting and bills are past due

(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).

The shopping’s not done

and there’s nothing for stew

and out in the yard there’s a hullabaloo

but I’m playing Kanga and this is my Roo.

Look! Aren’t her eyes the most wonderful hue?

(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).

The cleaning and scrubbing

will wait till tomorrow,

for Children grow up,

as I’ve learned to my sorrow.

So quiet down, cobwebs.

Dust go to sleep.

I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep……”

~Author Unknown ~

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1 thought on “No More Mama

  1. How about this one from Fiddler on the Roof:

    Is this the little girl I carried?
    Is this the little boy at play?
    I don't remember growing older,
    When did they?

    When did she get to be a beauty?
    When did he grow to be so tall?
    Wasn't it yesterday when they were small?

    Sunrise sunset, sunrise, sunset,
    Swiftly flow the days,
    Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers,
    Blossoming even as they gaze . . .

    Sunrise sunset, sunrise, sunset!
    Swiftly fly the years,
    One season following another,
    Laden with happiness and tears .
    Lyrics by Sheldon Harnick
    Pass the schmaltz, Mama…oops, Mommy.

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