They Called Me Mommy

Hearing my three sons call me Mom, My Mom, Mama always brings a smile to my face. Thinking back to 1959 my young son spoke his first word Momma. How excited I was as I called my family and his Dad to tell them Terry said Momma. If memory serves me well I am sure it brought tears to my eyes and my heart swelled with pride. It repeated itself with my sons Joe and Darrin. Being a Mother is a never ending role that has many facets, twists and turns, happiness, tears, excitement and disappointment. Pride and sometimes embarrassment, yet it never runs out of love to give, to share, to show.

I have always loved being a Mom, but in the past few years I started to feel sad like I wasn’t needed any more. Rightfully so as my sons are grown men, independent and successful with their lives and families. Yet I still missed them needing me. Volunteering at the school has filled this void. My love of children has enabled me to be kind, understanding and capable of seeing the child desperate for a Mom’s attention. It is uncanny that not knowing up front the child’s personal life, I can spend some time with them reading or trying a project and within a few hours the vibes kick in. My instinct is right on the money once I discuss it with the teacher. This year, six children do not have a Mother in their life and it shows in their behavior. In my experiences at the school the past 4 years it seems it is the males that are needier of a Mom image. All of the six are boys and their behavior is a problem. When I entered the room today the children greeted me excitedly. “Ms Millie is here” – and little Jordan ran to me as he called “Mommy is here” Oh! My eyes filled up and my throat choked a little as I hugged them all two and three at a time. Mommy never sounded so sad yet beautiful. My need to be needed is right here as a volunteer. How wonderful I feel. Lucky Me!

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