Valentine’s Day was pretty uneventful this year, as stark contrast from prior years. When my husband and I were dating, we would make it into a special day or evening. He would bring home flowers, a card, chocolates…. We would brave the traffic on the streets and the crowds in the restaurants, have a nice meal and end the evening with a nice movie. More
Polina finally said the word “mama” this evening, shortly before going to sleep. I have been working on it with her for several months, at least since the beginning of the year. She said “dada” early on. Actually, everything became “dada.” She pointed at objects and said, “dada.” Of course, when Pete came home, he loved to hear “dada.” When I asked her to say “mama,” she responded, “dada,” to which Pete would respond with a sardonic laugh.
“Mama” I said again.
“Dada.”
And the chuckling continued.
After several months of this, Polina began responding “yaya.” She never called me that, or anything for that matter, but when I asked her to say “mama,” she responded “yaya.”
“Yaya?!” I said, so many times. “Ya mama.” (Translation: “I’m mama.”)
“Yaya,” she said, with a smile, oh so many times.
In the last several weeks, she began saying “ma.” I noticed it when she was on the toilet. She has a book of photographs that she likes to peruse while she is on the potty. It contains pictures of Pete and me and members of our extended family. She pointed to Pete and said, “dada.” Then she pointed to a picture of me and said, “ma.” I was at once pleased and wistful at the thought that my little girl is growing up. She only called me “ma” on the toilet. Outside the bathroom, if I asked her to say “mama,” I was still “yaya.”
And so it continued until tonight, shortly before bed, when Polina said, “ma” followed by a pause, and then…. “ma.”
“Ma” she said again. Pause. “Ma.” And then she fell asleep.
Funny thing is that I’m more ready for that title now than earlier. I’ve only been called Julie or Julia my entire life. Never “sis” or “auntie” because I’m not either. I’m just Julie to my friends or Julia if you don’t know me. I got another name tonight, not just by matter of fact, but because I was actually called that, which I think is more important.
I carried my baby around and I thought of her as my baby, but I didn’t think of myself as a mama except in some third party sort of way. It probably has something to do with the huge distance I felt from my own mother growing up. She wasn’t a particularly loving mother and didn’t know how to show affection. Consequently, I thought of myself as a mother in fact only. I couldn’t get too close to it.
But tonight, I became a “mama” by my daughter’s choice, so to speak, and I’m more ready to accept that title now that I have almost two years under my belt. I feel more comfortable with the title, like a shoe that has been worn in, or a new job that you finally feel comfortable mastering.
I just hope I can live up to that title.
Originally written June 14, 2014.
I was just looking at video of Polina’s first days on this planet. I am beaming as I hold her in my arms shortly after birth. She is wrapped in a blanket and is wearing a beanie hat on her head. Watching that video reminded me how elated I was when she was born, how small her hands and feet were, and how I marveled at her tiny nails. It lasted such a short time. Even when she was a newborn, she was strong, lean but sturdy. She was not a helpless baby. That surprised me. And now, as she is growing, she is a willful child. She is strong, tall, and confident. It reminds me of the human “dignity” I heard about at a Catholic university I attended. She exudes dignity. Open. Honest. Unafraid. No one has taken it away from her, and I pray no one ever does.
Originally written April 6, 2014.
Today, Pete and I were talking about one of Polina’s favorite books, “I Like it When” (it’s about two penguins helping each other) when Polina left the room and came back with, lo and behold, the very same book we were talking about. This led my husband to ask her, “Bring me “Peek a Who,” and she…. DID.
Our daughter understands more than she can communicate. As this experience shows, she can differentiate words in a sentence and understand their meaning. This places a responsibility on us, as her parents, to be careful of what we say and how we say it. Easier said than done. I’m not the most easy going person. I tend to be an action oriented problem solver when the crap hits the fan. My husband, on the other hand, withdraws and deals with things in a more laid back manner. You can see how this can be a recipe for disaster. Now we have a witness watching our interactions. Ugh. We have to grow up too.
This post was originally written on November 14, 2013.