I got jealous of my blog this morning.
You know why? ‘Cause my blog is neat, organized, and clean. It’s white with crisp black text. It’s double-spaced, and, get this… conversations show up here in precise, linear order.
Oh my gosh! What would it be like to have actual, real-life, orderly conversations?
That would be aMAZing. So calm. So structured. So little bleeding from my ears.
Inevitably, when I share a conversation with you here, I’ve removed the background din. The incessant chatter that happens on all sides. It’s like going back through an audio recording for ambient noise reduction.
Sometimes, it feels disingenuous, as though I’m misleading you by allowing you to believe that I can actually have a conversation with just one child at a time.
So I thought today I’d introduce you to my nickname.
Nope, not the Beth nickname which is short for my given name, Elizabeth.
My Mom nickname. Around home, Mom’s much too long. For short, I go by MommyMomMomMomMommyMom.
MommyMomMomMomMommyMom isn’t just a name, though. It’s also an important part of our family’s punctuation rules.
You know how sentences begin with a capital letter? Capitals are essential for structure. I have the non-capitalized text messages from my child to prove that’s true. Messages like this, unedited for your reading pleasure: “Not home and why and I will NOT be loud we will be out side for most of it Kk? plZ we will be quiet promise WHY?! that’s not fair I am finLly done Nd want Nslpeep over but NO?”
Let’s pause for a quiet moment in remembrance of punctuation and capitalization. I miss you guys.
The period is such a nice way end to a sentence, and I know how I feel about a capital that politely informs me a new sentence has been birthed. So sweet. So precious. So new and fresh. A capital is clear and precise.
In my world, MommyMomMomMomMommyMom is a capital letter. It’s the beginning of every important question, declaration or exclamation at our house.
It’s like this:
Mommy? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mommy? Mom?
Are you making cookies?
Mommy? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mommy? Mom?
Can I make cookies with you?
Mommy? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mommy? Mom?
Can I break the eggs all by myself?
Mommy? Mom? Mom? Mom? Mommy? Mom?…
See how that works?
It’s like an essential part of our language around here.
But our conversations, while lovely, aren’t nearly that organized, that black and white or that double-spaced. No. Our conversational life looks more like this:
MommyMomMomMomMommyMom? Yes? Are you making cookies? Yes. MommyMomMomMomMommyMom! Can I fill up water balloons? Yes. I mean, no. MommyMomMomMomMommyMom, he took my bear. Give Cael back his bear. MommyMomMomMomMommyMom? Yes? Can I make cookies with you? Yes. MommyMomMomMomMommyMom! Yes? There’s something brown and sticky on the couch. Ian, can you get that? There’s a sponge in the sink. Moooommmmm! I said water balloons! Yes. I mean no. NOT THAT SPONGE; that’s gross. Take it to the laundry room. No, not the bear – the sponge. MommyMomMomMomMommyMom, I was first. I don’t care who was first. I want you both to be nice. MommyMomMomMomMommyMom, he interrupted! I wonder what that feels like? MommyMomMomMomMommyMom?! Brown. Stuff. COUCH! Get. The. Sponge. NOT THAT SPONGE. Use a paper towel. Well, get a new roll. Well, have dad put it on the shopping list. MommyMomMomMomMommyMom? I have to go potty and no one will go with me. (Wails and sobs.) Aden, go potty with your brother. Can I break the eggs all by myself? Yes. No, not the water balloons. MommyMomMomMomMommyMom, I want my bear. Where’s your bear? Ian, go get the bear back out of the laundry room; I meant the sponge…
You get the idea. MommyMomMomMomMommyMom is an exciting person to be. Never a dull moment.
And MommyMomMomMomMommyMom is especially exciting because it applies both linguistically and mathematically.
Where Mom is m, Kids are k, and Attention is a,
1m ÷ 5k = 0.2a
Even though I want to give my kids the undivided attention they crave for every single question, I’m a walking division problem.
Ultimately the kids’ goal is to increase Attention. Clearly, they can do this by decreasing Kids, which they’ve tried to do by falling off play structures, cracking their heads open on walls, and sliding down my stairs head-first on “flying carpets” (aka, mattresses).
But their favorite method of changing the equation seems to be trying to increase Mom. I theorize that’s why they use MommyMomMomMomMommyMom. It creates more m. Logical, right?
I’m really sorry, kids. The bad news is, no matter how many Mommy Moms you give me, I’m still just one person.
The good news is, I LoveyLoveLoveLoveLoveyLove you. And that’s the part of the equation that has infinite, exponential increase potential.
9 responses to “Just Call Me MommyMomMomMomMommyMom”
[…] little faces between my head and the latest Ilona Andrews novel and remind me they’re there. MommommommomMOMMYmom! Face to face? Oh, yeah, kids! Sorry about that! Mommy will be right with you as soon as this […]
[…] Any statement prefaced by the word “MommyMomMomMomMommyMom!” […]
Hey – thanks, y’all, for the very kind words! I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am for your comments… both for letting me know I’m not the only one, and for the encouragement to write. Blessings on each and every one of you.
Thank you for making me laugh! I too share your lot in life and it is refreshing to see it printed in black and white, capitals and punctuation optional. It’s a good life, but oh so wearing.
I have the same experiences with two, cannot imagine with five! love your blog, someone pointed me here recently and it cracks me up every time.
My youngest does this too well but it sounds more like a stutter as if she can’t get any other word out “momma… momma… momma…..” Each momma gets more intense even if I am saying “yes” in between each. There is usually a 3 momma minimum. Then usually while she is slowly revving up to her question, one of the others will have completed an entire question and is waiting impatiently for me to answer them. It’s a good thing moms are good at multitasking!
once again, beth, well done. very, very well done.
My older son (of just two kids) often begins his requests with “Mommy Mommy Mommy,” so I started responding with “Yes, William, William, William.” He primly informed me that his name is “William,” and totally missed my point. I guess my protestations that my name is just “Mommy” not “Mommy Mommy Mommy,” or worse “Mooo-ooom” are falling on deaf ears (the selective hearing of the four year old is astounding).
I’ve often wondered about this Beth. If I’ve even just got both kids home as soon as I start talking with one the other has to chime in with a completely different conversation. Why can’t kids just wait their turn? I can’t imagine trying to keep it all straight with five – my head is just not that clear. But they say that the more mental stimulation you get the longer your brain will stay clear. So you should be a very clear-minded 99 year old GreatyGrandma someday!