Word to Da Mama

The first word thing always confuses me. Is it the first word the first time they say it? Or the first time they mean it? Tristan has been babbling Dada for a while now, but not with any discrimination. He’s started on the Ma-ma now and I get to hear it several times each day, after each of which I coo over how wonderful he is to be saying Mama so he starts to associate that the word gets attention from me specifically. He starts the beginning ma part like he’s about to hum, mmm – mama! I know he’s not talking to me but at me and my heart still swells each time all the same. This might be in part because Connor’s first word was Dada and his second word was Cheese. I sorta felt like after 22 hours of labor, mama should at least be a runner up for first word.
With the testing of the voice Tristan has developed something new and fun. The scream. Tristan’s scream isn’t one of discontent or apprehension… it’s a scream of joy. It’s a scream that says, EVERYONE! EVERYONE! LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT WHAT I CAN DO! And if there was something that was louder than ALL CAPS, I would have written it in that, because it’s just that loud. Piercing. In fact, the scream is so loud that since the scream started… Tristan has been hoarse. When he cries or babbles, he sounds like he’s smoked a pack of Newports while he drank his fifth of Whiskey. It’s that bad. And that pitiful. There is just no way to explain to a bitty babe, that if you want your throat to quit hurting… you have to stop with the screaming.
For our listening pleasure Connor likes to chime in. So the two of them scream together in harmony as the crystal in the cabinets rattles and threatens to shatter.
And me, I just try to take a deep breath and go to my happy place, while I say over and over to myself… What in the hell was I about to do again? And this is how Mommy brain progresses.