ello, jello

I’m allowing myself to think of what it could be. (It’s probably too early. Probably.) But I’m giving myself permission to imagine. What would our kids call us? Who would be mom? Who would be momma? Or would one of us be mommy? Mama? Mamá? Maybe… mami? I hope neither of us are mother. Or madre. Never those. If the kids are calling either of us mother or madre, then we’ve failed them. I don’t want that distance. I don’t need to be best friends with my hypothetical kids, but I never want the distance that we have with our mothers. I would want them to know that no matter what, we’ll always be there for them. Come rain or come shine, we’re there. I’m there. She’s there. No judgement, no question, only support and love.