What do the kids call us?

Kiddo, who was older when she came to us, was fiercely adamant that we were not her parents. She called us Miss Holly and, eh hem, “Miss Seth.”

We think she picked up calling Seth Miss rather than Mr because most of her teachers were women and she just assumed adults were called Miss. But Seth has a tradition of being called “Miss Seth” and “Mommy” by our kids and I feel like there’s more to it than just what Kiddo called other adults. He’s such a sensitive, loving, involved parent that he strikes kids as being maternal. It’s a theme that cracks me up, but which he accepts with grace and – I think – a touch of pride. It’s certainly adorable.

These days Kiddo is way more comfortable with who her parents are and isn’t so worried we are trying to take over from them. She calls us Miss Holly and Miss Seth, but she also sometimes calls us Mommy and Daddy, and we just roll with it. Although every time she calls me Mommy my heart gives a little thump because it strikes me as being so trusting and sweet. For her it’s a term of endearment.

Gronckle didn’t talk when he went home. He was such a physical kid – walking at age 9 months and running at 11 months – that he didn’t focus on language. He was 15 months when he went home and really wasn’t talking yet. I think he may have called us Mama and Dada but don’t remember. I just remember him climbing the furniture and the baby gates and whipping the dog into a frenzy by running around her in circles, and the ridiculously adorably wrestling matches he would get into with Kiddo. Those two broke a lot of stuff! But they shrieked with delight and mischief the whole time. Kiddo still really misses Gronckle.

Mouse called us Mommy and Daddy when she started talking. We called ourselves as Mommy and Daddy when talking to her so that’s what she picked up. Was that wrong? I don’t know. It’s so hard to be a mother in all the tasks and daily duties and stresses and frustrations and joys and yet not be called “Mommy.” It’s one of the many ways foster care is hard that people don’t talk about. Mouse’s parents didn’t seem particularly bothered by it, thankfully. But I always have a twinge of wondering whether we did something wrong when thinking about it. She always called her bio parents Mommy and Daddy too. Now she doesn’t remember us and only has one Mommy and one Daddy so I guess it all worked out right in the end.

The twins called us Mommy and Daddy from the start. They were already talking a little bit and nearly 2 when they came to us and just automatically called us that. It bothered their parents tremendously so we tried to get them to call us Holly and Seth and it never clicked. We were their other Mommy and Daddy. It’s part of the reason their parents never liked us, I’m sure. And I get it. They were convinced we were trying to “steal” their kids even though we never wanted to adopt PB&J and had no say in what the court decided to do with regard to a timeline for returning the kids. I can only imagine how hard it must be to have your beloved children – your own flesh and blood – calling someone else “Mommy.”

Tiny calls us Mommy and Daddy and she also calls us Holly and Seth. It depends on her mood. She was already talking when she came to us, although she spoke Burmese. But the word for mother in Burmese is Mama so that’s what she called me from the start. We taught her “Dada” for Seth, but at some point this whip smart kid asked us what our names were and now she uses them interchangeably. She usually pulls out our names when she’s annoyed with us or particularly wants our attention and isn’t getting it. This morning I was slow getting downstairs to turn on Frozen for her, so she stood at the top of the stairs with a hand on her hip and yelled, “Holly! Come on! Fwozen!” The little stinker!