There’s something about the term “Mama” that sends a shiver down my spine. It’s akin to those inexplicable cringe-worthy sounds like nails on a chalkboard or the scraping of forks against plates. It’s just so… cloying. That’s the best way I can put it.
Every night, I offer a silent thanks to the parenting gods for allowing me to transition directly from “Mama” to “Mom,” avoiding “Mama” altogether.
My dislike for the term is a mystery to me. I hear “Mama” countless times in the parenting sphere, yet it never bothers me. But when it comes from my own children, it feels like nails on a chalkboard, and an involuntary shiver runs down my spine. For me, “Mama” and whining evoke the same visceral reaction: If you don’t stop it right now, I might just lose it.
My kids are well aware of this and use it to their advantage. Whether they’re being sarcastic, asking for something, or trying to win the award for Most Obnoxious Child, they know that calling me “Mama” will get my attention.
Imagine hearing this in the most annoying tone:
“Oops, Mama, when you have to fart, you have to fart.”
“Mama, can we have candy for breakfast?”
“Just one more minute, Mama!”
While these antics don’t usually get them what they want, they certainly make my jaw tense up.
Please, don’t call me “Mama.” It feels overly sentimental, too sweet, and a touch patronizing. The term carries cultural baggage that I can’t seem to shake off.
Let’s start with the movie “Mommie Dearest,” which left a mark on children in the ’80s. When I hear “Mama,” I can’t help but picture Joan Crawford’s intimidating eyebrows.
The term “Mama” seems to lack seriousness. It’s a word used for novelty onesies, cute figurines, or matching outfits that are more silly than substantial.
There’s an air of frivolity and weakness to it, rendering it easily dismissible. A “Mama” might give you a hug and tell you how special you are, but she doesn’t enforce rules like your mother would. She doesn’t set you straight the way a real mom does.
I embody many things, but sweet and wholesome? Not in a million years. I can cuddle and giggle with the best of them, but most days, I’m more about “get your act together.”
If you’re hoping for candy for breakfast—which is never entirely off the table—I have one piece of advice: Don’t call me “Mama.”
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Summary:
In this humorous take on parenting, the author expresses a deep aversion to being called “Mama,” linking it to cultural stereotypes and personal discomfort. The article reflects on the differences between “Mama” and “Mom,” emphasizing a preference for a more serious and straightforward parental identity. It also touches on the antics of children, who often exploit their parent’s sensitivities. The author is ultimately clear: if you want to propose something fun, leave the “Mama” out of it.