I hate to admit it, I got teary eyed. It felt so good to be called Mom. Even over something as silly as a spinach.
It was never a question for the Fab Four. We were Mom and Dad before they moved in. It was easier to remember than the myriad of care givers they had in foster care. It didn't have any special meaning. It came to mean the same thing as the rest of the world knows it: love, protector.For these kids it's different. The foster mom of the youngest two prefers her name. The other foster parents used Aunt and Uncle.
I hate it! Last night I got called "Miss R". In my own house. Ugh! I'm the Mom in this house. I take care of you every day. I handle all the bodily fluids and bath time and dinner and homework. And since I have a feeling these kids are going to be here at least two years, I'm having a hard time adjusting to being "R" to them for that long.
The kids should be comfortable. I believe that. And I won't force them to call me Mom. (I will refer to Hubby as Dad and secretly hope that they change their minds.) I know often the argument is that "Mom" may have a negative connotation but they really seem to love their Mom and they call her "Mommy".
I guess I just feel like if I'm doing all the heavy lifting of a Mom, it would be nice to get the credit.
Although yesterday at day care one of the kids called me by the Fab Fours' last name. Hi Mrs. Four! Which was kind of funny to me. These kids all have different last names although one of them is the same as ours! (It's been interesting to be back at day care. The kids who were friends with the Fab Four have been cute. Telling me how much they miss them. The parents not in the know seem puzzled. Like i look familiar but aren't sure why. Everyone else wants to know how I shrunk my kids! LM came with me to pick them up tonight and she told people these kids were her cousins and siblings!)