Mommy! Mommy!

“Mommy! Mommy!” I hear behind me as a little girl runs to her mother, who bends down to receive a huge hug and kiss from her daughter. Oh, this sight tugs my heartstrings.

I don’t know if it’s due to #TBT, but I am feeling nostalgic. I am feeling nostalgic about the days when my sweet babies would run to me with open arms yelling, “Mommy! Mommy!”

How long has it been since those days?

Too many years to count I imagine.

I smile as I remember the smell of baby shampoo in their hair, the color of paint on their hands, and the taste of jam on their mouths. Oh, and the wonder and joy in their eyes left over from whatever had captured their interest in that exact moment proceeding our embrace. I just loved the sound of this joy and laughter combined with their chattering voices. These are, quite simply, the smells, sights, and sounds of Heaven.

I smile the secret smile of mothers reviewing their memories and being enfolded by their warmth and love.

As I drive away, I try to recall the last time I was called, “Mommy!” I cannot quite recall the exact date. I think it was, oh, I think it was when Nick was 7 or so. Such a long time ago, but that seems about right. Nick thought he was too old to be calling me Mommy, but he had trouble going directly from Mommy to Mom. He would trip and stumble over it.

I think Katy noticed. I think she noticed and solved this problem for him one morning as we were reading in bed. We were snuggling together under the covers reading some captivating story and Katy said, “Mommy, I’m going to call you Snugga-Bugga, because you are so snuggly.”

I laughed and said, “Well, I’m going to call you Snugga, so I don’t think I can have the whole name.”

“Then I’ll call you Bugga!” she said as she laughed with glee.

Well, it stuck. Bugga.

Yes, Bugga.

In fact, I was Bugga for quite some time.

Nick clung to the name as a solution to his Mommy-to-Mom problem and Katy thought it was great when her little friends called me Bugga as well.

Thankfully, after a few months, Katy shortened Bugga to Bo (pronounced bow) and I was Bo for a number of years.

I liked being Bo.

“Bo, can I go to a friends house?”

“Bo, what are we having for dinner?”

My favorite, “I love you Bo.”

Now I am called Mom. I am simply Mom. I cannot recall the exact moment when this changed. It wasn’t too long ago. Nick changed it a few years ago and I think Katy changed it within the last year.

It’s a little confusing in a crowd as I turn with every call out for “Mom!” yet I imagine every mother does the same.

“Mom!”

“Mom, can I go to a friends house?”

“Mom, what’s for dinner?”

My favorite, from my newly minted 15 year-old in the morning as he gets out of the car after a completely silent ride, “I love you Mom.” It is said low so no one will hear, but is accompanied by a backward look and the sweetest slight smile.

“I love you Mom.”

This memory too, tugs my heartstrings. Thankfully, I do not have to go back too far in time to recall this memory. Thankfully, it’s only been a few hours.

I smile the secret smile of mothers reviewing their memories and being enfolded by their warmth and love.

These are, quite simply, the smells, sights, and sounds of Heaven.