life, I have walked two paths: that as a word weaver, and that as a mother. In
both paths, words are invaluable. They lay the foundation for everything that
glues my life together: mortgage and bills, household must-have’s, broadband service, Sundates with my daughter, my soul.
my bread and butter. Each comes with a certain weight, so I curate them carefully, ensuring that nothing unnecessary slips out of sight. Unfortunately, that rule suddenly disappears when
I switch on to mom mode.
Then they merely become a less severe and more acceptable replacement for spanking, things I use to prevent food spills or express disappointment in one. It’s become nearly impossible to go past ten minutes without hollering.
Words, once golden, has transformed to callous and exhaustingly ordinary, like
the scoffing of a nameless drunken man in an alley in some regrettable novel.
For several weeks, my daughter has shown a more profound preference for her father over me. The first person she looks for when she wakes up? Her Daya. When we’re traveling two-gether? Daya. When a playmate has wronged her? Daya. When she’s whiny and she wants to get out of the grocery cart to walk, whose hands do you think she prefers to take her? That’s right. Daya‘s.
My words have lost their value in a market where there’s only two of us contractors vying for a single client: my daughter. They’ve become so commonplace in my toddler’s life that when I reprimand her, she no longer hears it.
Without warning, her longing of me turned from always Mama to almost nada. It now appears she only requires my assistance when she needs the boobies to nap or to alleviate her boredom. Or when she
wakes up at night to feed and needs to go back to sleep. Or in those very rare occasions that she
and her dad are at war. Outside those times, I’m simply optional.
Has she totally forgotten that I was her moon and stars, her heroine, her go-to girl?
I know part of the surprising change has something to do with the husband scooping her up at the first whimper (he will probably deny it, but it’s true). While I am the firm bearer of things she despises – toothbrush; the occasional no to chocolates,
chips, soda, and TV at bedtime; bathing; and tough love – her dad is the hero who’s more than willing to give in to her every demand.
given the unique and infrequent opportunity to earn and oversee my daughter at the same time, and I am squandering it with non-stop shrieks and meaningless words. That same night, I began to bite my lip every time I feel like uttering anything unnecessary. I refrained from yelling and scoffing for 24 hours.
just throw in the towel during roadblocks. We persevere in our mothering till our
last breath. Every act and spoken word should be intentional, for every second defines a future.