The Whole What-to-Call-Ourselves Debate: Solved [Maybe]

I wonder if the girls know their names. Sometimes I will call “Avery” and Avery will look up at me and I think, she knows. Then I will look at Avery and say “Madeline” and Avery will look at me, and I think, she’s confused. And then I will say something like “Yellow bucket” and she looks up at me and I think, she’s clueless.

Maybe Nicole and I both being “mommy” confused them. This is how heretofore we both referred to each other. Surely they will be able to ascertain that two separate objects can have the same name, right? Maybe not.

We’ll see if it sticks, but right now Nicole is “Mommy” and I am “Momma.” We still mess it up sometimes but we are getting better at referring to each other as such. I think part of me wanted “mommy” because it seems like the kinder, gentler name. Mommy bakes cupcakes with you; Momma keeps you locked in the attic with no food. (Hello, influence of Flowers in the Attic). Plus, I never really like Momma because I had a grandmother named that who was not a nice person. Not nice at all.

On the other hand I wanted to say “mommy” because I never did. Maybe that seems twisted? Calling my girlfriend Mommy? Have a field name with that one. I never called my mom “mommy” or my father “daddy.” Well, I guess maybe I did when I was young but I don’t remember. Mom has always been mom and dad has always been dad. And my parents refer to each other as “your mother” and “your father.” So formal, and always with a pronoun. I was always envious of people whose parents referred to the other parent without a pronoun. Anyway, I like the idea of being able to say, at a baby hand-off, for example, “Go to Mommy, Avery.” It feels like capturing a little of my own childhood in a bizarre way. Or maybe I should say creating my own childhood, because recapturing is not what I want to do.

The good thing about being Momma is the girls will say my name first!

So on American Idol last night that little boy I’m Loving Angels Instead, which really pissed me off. Well, maybe I should say it took me down a dark road because that was the song I played on loop on my iPod as I walked across town to have my second D&C (and little I know that there was a twin in my tube). Why that song, when I have thousands to choose from, I don’t know. I was crying and in pain (physical and emotion) and looked like a mess. As I walked through the heart of Midtown, more than one dapper man and distinguished woman gave me concerned looks. That song is now tied to a period of much pain. So I don’t want to hear it ever again. Thanks, tiny Idol singer.

The body image poll is starting to tip into the negative, which I thought would happen. Why do so many of us women look in the mirrors and not like what we see? I wish the positives could teach us negatives how they do it.

Pictured above, dinner, all over their faces. Last night I mixed spinach with ricotta, melted mozzarella on a tortilla, slapped another tortilla on top and cut it all up into bite-size chunks. They loved it. I then made a tortilla sandwich with cheddar and avocado. They loved that too. Of course, all that can change on a dime….