Endearment Games

Jahsenta H

My dear, lovely mother was never called mom. Throughout my youth, we journeyed through years of only saying happy mamas and squealing mommy. She wouldn't let me call her mom as a joke for the most part. She held a tender teasing to my small confused eyes. Though maybe it was out of fear that using the dreaded word mom meant I was all grown up. My little mind was fooled by this looking back, but not hurt. 

Long ago, I sat on our old couch, stuffed animals cuddled around me enjoying the smooth colors of Disney Channel that burst across the screen. Little me was struck with a brilliant idea. My idea would most definitely confirm if she would ever respond to the word “mom.” My plan consisted of confirming this use of the word “mom”  by mimicking a Disney Channel icon. Candace: the red-headed tattle-tale from Phineas and Ferb.

Little me tried to call out to her in our small house. The house was quiet for the most part, besides the noises from the TV, until my mouth slowly opened up and yelled,  “MOMMMMM!!!!!” Just like Candance does on the show. I waited as any kid does with no response and heard silence settle in the house once again. I sighed impatiently, Maybe I’ll try again, she must respond at least once? I called out again thinking she may have not heard me. 

Once again, I shouted out, “MOMMMMM!!!” throughout our tiny house.

Earning no response, I gave up, lacking the energy to yell further, and wandered over to her where she was doing her daily tasks. She sat there, unphased. I knew she had heard me, though she refused to answer to this new title:“mom”. I was defeated but not broken in that small moment in time. Little me continued to follow the engrained “mommy” and “mama” for the test proved my assumption—it wouldn’t work.

Many years later, I felt odd about saying mommy and mama at an older age. Most of the other kids would call their parents mom or dad, but I was still stuck with this childish term of endearment. I had to figure out new names, what could I say that isn't mom? A bulb lit up in my sneaky brain. I took a bold move and transitioned to the fun game of saying “SuSaN”, my mother's real name. I knew this was an odd way to refer to your parent, some may even say disrespectful, but I found it just as humorous as she found the word mom. 

She soon, of course,  started to get tired of her kid referring to her lack of love. I didn’t blame her of course, it was tiring and started to lose its effortless touch. This meant another name, meaning I had to check the next box available: Mother. 

“Why won’t you just call me Mom?” she asked in a confused curious tone. She had probably forgotten the exchange when I was far younger involving the word mom, but of course, how could I forget? 

“You wouldn't let me call you mom, so why start now?” I replied in a humored tone which she found just as comical. The look in her eyes changed as she remembered. 

From this she felt old and worn by the  name “Mother” when used too often, “Mother” did hold an odd tone, almost aging my mother in not the best way. I respected my mother’s view and once again moved to the next box.  The next name was Mum, which was short, sweet, simple, and fun to say. Even better, to me, it suited her love for tea.

Many people would be intrigued by her name when I saw her, some because of the word use, others because she has blue eyes and vanilla skin while I have dark brown eyes and melanin. She was white. 

“That’s your mom?” they would ask. 

“Yeah?” I would reply, not totally understanding the confusion, although I learned quickly from a tender age why this was. I could see why this was a little odd, including the fact that my father wasn't in my life anymore from a young age. I was a mixed kid with a mum that most would say didn't look like me. Though I dare say that more “diverse babies” were occurring around when I was born. But those with a decent understanding of diversity wouldn't be as interested to see traces myself and my mum shared. Not many mixed kids were at my school, though that was and is expected at this point. I sometimes felt stunned and bamboozled when people found this interesting.

Maybe, in theory, I was my mum’s sidekick, but she didn't have a partner in crime. Through the many years of wild titles from her calling me little monkey to spice, she's always done the best she could for us even with the many strange names thrown her way, because trust me, there are more.

My mum always remained the same despite the title she was given. She surprisingly didn't take on a new personality as most super heroes kids see in their youth, but she still managed to be one on her own.