Word Up

So far, the child care arrangement we have has worked out pretty well - it's been challenging for both Smitty and I to get used our new roles, but the fact that Pi has spent his first 14 months (today - happy month-day, Pi!) of life under the care of a parent is invaluable to us. I feel very lucky that we even have this as an option.

I will admit, however, to feeling a bit of a pang when the arrangement first began. When I went back to work and Smitty started full-time child care, I imagined a time in the future when my heart would break because Pi would choose Daddy over me when he got hurt, or a big developmental event that I would miss because of work.

I have to say that so far, none of those fears have come to pass. When Pi gets hurt, he doesn't want to be comforted by ANYONE. He just wants to scream it out and find something else to do immediately. And thanks to the technological advances of the age, I get up-to-the-minute reports and video of all of Pi's adorableness during the day.

The one thing I hadn't counted on, however, is that we would get to 14 months without a "mama". He has never, not once, deliberately referred to me as Mama. Smitty walks in the room, or smiles at Pi, or clears his throat at the other end of the house, and Pi busts into choruses of "Dada! Dada!" Pi says "book", "cat", and something that kinda sounds like "bottle". He babbles non-stop, has good consonant sounds, and knows a couple of signs. But "mama" remains elusive, the Holy Grail of development, something that would make this WOTH mom feel a hell of a lot better about her choices.