Ma...Ma...Move over Dada!

After a few months of cooing, I began to eagerly await the day that my tot would utter his first word.  Whereas monks and other highly spirited individuals participate in the activity of chanting, I found myself as a new mother falling into a daily rhythm of chanting too.  Well, a chant of sorts.  I call my chant the Mama Chant. 

I somehow managed to convince myself that this behavior was seemingly normal and although other moms might not even be aware of it they too are quite familiar with this chant.  Countless waking hours we spend leaning over our little ones smiling and happily saying, “I am your mama...maaa-maaa…can you say mama?”  Every time his little eyes would meet mine I would begin my chant.  “Maaa-maaa, maaa-maaa…I am your mama.”  I’d say it slow and I’d say it fast.  I would just say it.  As if I had some perverse form of turrets I couldn’t manage to not say it. 

Due to the lack of actual conversation being shared between myself and my child, I began to fill that void with the word mama.  “Mama is doing this…, mama is doing that…, as soon as mama finishes…”  But this word bares a significance that my son just cannot seem to decipher, the significance that I am indeed his mama and saying it confirms my own sick importance in his little life.  I know, I need therapy but other moms engage in this ritualistic activity too; they just don’t happen to blog about it.  Whenever an opportunity seemed to arise for me to initiate my chant, I would.  “Mama is going to change your diaper.  Mama is going to make you some cereal.  Mama is going to rock you to sleep while mama is singing you lullabies.”  MAMA!

            I suppose I was secretly hoping that his first utterance would actually be mama.  When the guilt finally started to set in and I realized that my conscience was burdened with the fact that I was alienating his father, I started to throw a couple of daaa-daaas around.  “Dada is at work.  Dada brings home the bacon.”  Then I would slip up.  “But mama is the one that cooks the bacon.”  Crap, I can’t help myself.  

            So I wondered, in the end what was the likelihood that his first word would be mama?   Would I secretly die of envy if his first word was dada?  Maybe the most neutral of all family members would receive the first word honor, Oscar, our family wiener dog.  Maybe I was actually setting the bar too low after all, a book that we own called First Words shows that “chinchilla” is considered a first word…chinchilla, really?

~~~

Well into toddlerhood and first words have come and gone.  Of course his first declaration was indeed dada.  I am the stay at-home parent so I am not exactly sure how that transpired.  Was mama next you wonder?  No, dada was followed by Os-dar (our dog), sippy, hello, cookie, ball, car and cow but still no dang mama.  To this day I continue the chant and I can wholeheartedly say that mama is the most frequently used word in our house…well, that and the phrase – Don’t touch that!  This child is sneaky and smart.  He obviously doesn’t appreciate being coerced into anything that isn’t on his own terms.  Clearly, he knows who I am…right? 

Apparently when it comes to the art of conversation, my husband and Gavin seem to have better luck communicating.  My husband comes to me and jokingly says, “I was showing Gavin the picture in the hallway of our wedding and Gavin said to me…    “Is that the day that mommy came to work for us?”  Yes, I am the nanny; the live-in nanny, wife, housekeeper, CFO, accountant, chef, and sex goddess…

Actual “First Words” uttered by readers’ kids:

 Dada

Mama or Mommy

                                            Doggy/Dog (or the dog’s actual name)

More

Baba (Bottle)

Yum

Baby

Diaper

Spoon

Cup

Shoe

Apple

Come

No