Hot Salad

Erika asked, a bit ago, what makes me (well not me personally, more a universal “me”) a Mommy. The thing that makes that hard, after a lot of pondering, is that I Am Mama. My husband calls me Mama. I define myself, first and foremost, as Mama. Mama colors my entire paradigm, my experience on earth. That doesn’t mean I’m not Nita, but that Mama took Nita, co-opted her and made her more. Everything I do, I do as a mother. There are certain specialties, things that touch me more or less. But I’m feeling the Mamaness whether I’m tying Mags to my back, or wiping various butts, or making dinner, sewing outfits for children…what do I not do that isn’t Mama? Even my anger…my anger is Mama Bear anger. As far as most like a mama? I still nurse, and I guess that’s it.