Don't Drop The M-Y

I wonder if she felt it like a punch in the stomach?  Like a slap of I just don't need you anymore?  Like an insult?

I was desperate to be grown-up.  To wear a bra and use deoderant.  I didn't have time for an extra syllable - I was too busy pretending to be an adult in her old brown high heel shoes.

I tried it on for size and I liked it.  "Mom."  Did it break her into pieces?  Seeing her baby shuck off baby?

Liam tests it.  Dips his big toe in the grown-up pond.  Finds the water inviting.  Feels it roll off his tongue like fresh fruit juices.  Laughs at the rending of my heart.

"I'm sorry, I don't know who you're talking to.  My name is Mommy."
He just rolls his eyes.  Whatever.  "Ten I have a tookie, Mom?"

And a little bit of blue falls out of the sky and floats an Eeyore cloud over my head.  I am desperate to stunt his maturity and keep him cast as the toddler who mumbles out of the side of his mouth and can't make a "K"sound.  But he's miles away...running full tilt towards a full time job as an astronaut on the moon - as far away from Mommy as he can get.

"I yuv you, Mommy." Noa tucks against my hip, squeezing me with a grunt.  "So much!"  And I soak it up because I'm parched.
"Will you always call me Mommy, Noa?"
"Yeah."
"Promise?"
"O-tay."

So, at least I have that.  For a few more seasons.