The hubby and I are on our way to becoming Ma and Pa, our new nicknames for each other lacking any passion or flirtation. I picture us eighteen years from now — older, even dorkier versions of ourselves wearing fanny packs and visors to our daughter’s graduation. Then later, hearing aids and false teeth. Doesn’t get sexier than that! It’s our destiny to be that obnoxious couple who refers to each other as Mom and Dad even though we’re not, in fact, each other’s mother or father.
It’s already happening. He calls me Mama instead of Sweetie and I call him Daddy instead of Honey. It’s like when you first get married and you just can’t wait to use your new title of Wife or Husband. It’s thrilling…until the novelty wears off. Then you’re just the ol’ ball to his chain.
Did it happen overnight? Perhaps when we left the hospital with our baby, we drove over some invisible line into the Parent-hood whereby we were initiated into the “gang” (without having to prove ourselves by doing a drive-by). We were forced to leave our former selves behind and go forth as parents, surrendering any shred of coolness we might’ve had left. We all know parents aren’t people, they’re just Fun-Nazis.
So maybe we should teach our daughter to call us by our first names? We’d be the coolest parents on the block, and we wouldn’t have to completely give up our identities. Only kidding. I waited a very long time to become a mom. I love who my daughter has made me and will wear my new name proudly whether it be Mommy, Mama, or Mummy!