I have noticed a trend among American moms recently to refer to themselves as so-and-so’s “mum.”
I get it. It sounds cute and British. And there were days not so long ago, days when I first met Simon, when I thought one day it’d be so cute to have my little half-British children calling me Mummy.
But then I moved to England, and I am doing my best to hold onto my roots so my little boy knows where his mama comes from.
Because if I am going to take my son to playgroups where he is taught that the wheels on the bus go ’round “all day long”, that the spider is “eency-weency” instead of “itsy-bitsy”, that what it’s all about is the “Hokey-Cokey”…
…if he is going to start saying “cahht” and “glahhss” (which is, okay, so cute)…
…if he is going to think cookies are biscuits and biscuits are scones…
…well then, I’m sure as heck gonna feed him good enchiladas and chicken ‘n’ dumplins and sweet iced tea.
I am going to let him know that it is also all about the “Hokey-Pokey”.
I am going to teach him to say “yes ma’am” and “no sir.”
And by golly, he will not substitute “ta” – which is not even a real word – for a good old-fashioned “thank you.”
And for all you “mums” over there in America, you go right on ahead if that’s what makes you feel good. Meanwhile, this mama will be here, in England, holding it down with her Rainbow flip-flops and her “Heavens-to-Betsys”.