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!