For several months now, Baby Girl has called us "Mommy and Daddy." We have become accustomed to this, and it was rather expected, as she is younger than Little Man...and desperately needs the love of her Mommy and Daddy...whether biological or current.
Little Man, however, has only called us Dayna and Jeremy, though he would occasionally call me "Mom" if he emailed me from school. Monday, I was sick with a high fever and just felt miserable. Little Man, for whatever reason chose that day to start calling me "Mommy" and Jeremy "Daddy." It's so strange to hear it out of his mouth. I honestly never thought I would...and I was honestly okay with that.
The next day, we had a visit with their mom, and it was Little Man's birthday. I figured he would go back to calling me Dayna very quickly, and that would be okay, too. All I want is to be a GOOD, PURE, WHOLESOME mother figure to these kids God has placed in our lives. I want them to know safety and love in my arms and in my home (don't get me wrong...J and I have screwed it up plenty of times; we've argued in front of them; we've raises our voices at them...we've been too harsh over the "little" things, and we've probably overlooked some of the "big" things. We're a work in progress, though, and we keep plugging away.) As long as they have the safety and love, I don't care what they call me.
I was wrong. He's never gone back. I'm Mommy all the time now. Jeremy is Daddy all the time now. I must admit, it's harder to say no sometimes, when is little voice and caramel brown eyes are pleading "Mommyyyyyyyy" instead of "Dayyyynnnnnaaaa."
This morning, I made pancakes, eggs, and sausage for brunch. As we sat down to the table with our food, the kids raised their glasses of applease juice and said, "A toast! To the best Mommy in the entire world!" It took me a minute to realize...they were toasting ME...really and truly, AND THEY MEANT IT. I choked back tears, as I ate my food and watched my children laugh and joke and eat. I watched my son eat a pancake, one of his least favorite foods , just because..."I know it makes you happy when I eat everything, Mommy, even if it's just a small bite of something." I watched my daughter beg for thirds, because she loves pancakes and what would it hurt to eat Bubby's extra one? Eating my food...and bragging on it...is just one of the ways they try to show me how much they love me. It sounds so simple, but it means more than you can imagine to see their eyes light up as they compliment whatever meal I've made.
This is that double-edged sword. I've mentioned it before, but today it is piercing extra hard. I love my children. I can't remember life before them, and I can't imagine life without them. My heart swells with pride, and melts in the same moment, when they call me "Mommy," or when I see them reach for "Daddy." My most honored moment was when they toasted the "best Mommy in the entire world!" I will never forget that. However, every moment I cherish...every moment they honor me...that's a moment someone else is missing out on. I can't imagine being her. I don't want to replace her for my children, and we often talk of their other Mommy. We pray for her, and we ask God for what's best in their life. So, the double-edged joy and heartache is that for each moment my heart swells with pride, it is also racked by guilt, because I feel I'm taking something away from their other mother. I realize I'm not...and I realize God has called us to this journey, but the same BIG HEART that enables me to do what others say they could "never do," is the same big heart that causes me to feel guilty for doing it and doing it well...
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