by the numbers

you know how someone can point out something to you that you'd not noticed previously, and as soon as they do, that's all you notice?  that happened to me this past weekend. the four of us were driving to the pool and out of the blue, chris turned to me in the car and asked, "how many times do you think you hear the word 'mommy' in one day?"  i looked up at him, confused, not sure where this was coming from.  "take a moment and listen," he said.  "i don't think either of our children can utter a sentence without starting it off with 'mommy'."

as if on cue, our children, who hadn't heard our conversation as they were engrossed in their own discussion of all the cool moves they were going to make at the pool, proved him right.   "mommy, what book comes after beezus and ramona?" liam asked. "mommy, i think we should make cookies tomorrow," susanna said. "mommy! my scab on my knee is almost gone!" liam exclaimed.

i looked back at chris, wide-eyed.  "oh my gosh," i said.  "you're right."

so right then and there, i decided to conduct my own very non-scientific experiment.  the following day, i was going to keep track of the total number of times i heard the word "mommy".  i figured i could count them pretty easily in my head, although i knew that if i really wanted to be accurate, i'd need one of those hand-held clicker things that mall workers sometimes use to count shoppers at stores. 

the following morning, i woke up and trudged downstairs to make my cup of coffee.  liam had finished his daily breakfast with chris, who had just left for work.  before i could even glance at the front page of the paper, i found myself starting my count. "mommy, we are almost out of milk," liam informed me. 

one.

a few seconds later: "mommy, i tried a new cereal this morning.  and mommy, i really liked it!"

two.  and three.

about an hour later, after receiving a crash course in world cup soccer courtesy of my sports-obsessed son, sleeping beauty susanna appeared in the kitchen.  "mommy," she said, rubbing her eyes, "do i have camp today?"

eighteen.

turns out that one of those clicker things would have been helpful.  because at precisely 8:42 -- ten minutes after susanna had made her entrance -- i was already up to 33.  THIRTY-THREE times i had heard the word "mommy", and it wasn't yet 9:00 a.m.

i gave up counting at that point, acknowledging the fact that it would be impossible for me to keep track.  i considered extrapolating that number to determine how many times i might hear the word during my children's waking hours ... but i was afraid my head might explode.

still, as many names i've had over the years -- sara, say-say, DDH [one only my siblings can appreciate], pearl [one only my sorority sisters can appreciate], miss atkins, mrs. mann -- well, there's no doubt that "mommy" is by far the most dear to me.  i waited years and years to be called that.  i love it so.

even if i do hear it 353.6 times a day.  (sorry.  i wound up extrapolating anyway.  would you expect anything less from a math teacher?)