My bug

She still calls me Mama. As in, "Mama, guess what happened today?" or "Mama, mama, can I call a friend?"and of course, "Mama. Mama. Mama!? Can I tell you something?"

And to me, being called mama is the term of endearment. It's the original one. The first. It makes my heart at smushy and open, reaching out and swallowing up Ady and all of her excruciatingly detailed stories. It makes me fiercely protect her innocence. Surprise her with the wonders of this world. It makes me take my job more seriously and seek out the language the best suits her spirit.

I am still her mama. Not mom or mommy. But mama.

Ady turned eight last week. Her birthday came speeding by, much like her actual birth. (Ady was three weeks early and has been on the fast track ever since. Quite literally. That girl loves to run.)

Moseying down Memory Lane has only verified one thing that I met in Ady at birth: she is silly. Most of our home movies of Ady are filled with her crazy antics. Ady with a bucket on her head, playing dead for dad or dancing in the kitchen. She fills her life up with contagious giggles. It's hard to keep a gray clouded day around if Ady is in the room.  
Being the first baby in our family and a girl to boot, Ady has the typical "oldest child" personality. She is a rule stickler, an edge of her seat sitter, a sharp starched hand in the air to answer questions.
On top of that, Ady is also the second mama. She soothes Pars. She helps Stela brush her hair and teeth. She problem solves with Anders. She is the director of her siblings, creating new plays and dramas daily. And while Ady will, obviously, star in her own movies, she makes room for her brothers and sister and makes them feel special as well.

Ady is our glue. Maybe even the grease in our family. She keeps our gears going smoothly, eases the tension, lightens the burdens.

On a side note: When I give birth I tend to cry uncontrollably for the next few days. Like, all the time. It's just something I do. I let it all out for the whole hospital to see. With Ady, being the first, I kept apologizing to family and friends because I couldn't stop the sloppy wet tears. And when my family kept questioning what was wrong all I could say was, "I just love her so much."
I couldn't imagine the binds that would wrap me so tightly to this little girl. And with each passing year my heart strings tighten and infuse her spirit to mine.

She is my Ady. And I am her Mama.