“Mommy, You’re the Best.”

“Hey Mommy………..I love you.”

I hear each of those phrases at least forty-eight times a day.

Noah likes me. A lot.


And by a lot I mean he really prefers to be with me at all moments.

It’s utterly precious until it’s not.


All the honest Moms out there say “here, here.”

“Not” starts somewhere around 10am in the morning when I need just a second or two by myself.

But that is an unreasonable request, he quickly lets me know.

And I have to ask…


So to have a tiny second to myself, I try gifting him with the lovely bonus of a break from school. And I steal away to my room for just a second of silence from his incessant talking and questions and talking and questions.

But he comes and finds me.

During break time.

It’s as if he doesn’t understand that break times are for Mommies.


So I do what any normal mom would do.

I take a shower.

Thinking that this is the one place I can have a moment alone.

Until I start to get out of said shower.

And notice a tiny set of blue eyes peeking from the other side of the cracked door.


I scream.


Because my brain doesn’t immediately compute that it’s the stalker I birthed from my own body and not some other more nefarious stalker.

Which makes my tiny stalker cry.

“Mommy! You scared me!”


Yeah. Because I wasn’t scared at all.

So we get in the car to do errands.

Where it becomes most apparent that he can only process thought if and only if he thinks out loud with the preface of “Hey Mommy….?”

After which he’ll wait 3 seconds for an interested answer.

I don’t give it. Because I only have so many interested answers a day and he’s already used them up before I get out of bed.

So he continues without feedback.

“Hey Mommy….did you know I once forgot to put my goggles on when I went down the slide at the pool?”

“Hey Mommy…I really like Pokemon.”

“Hey Mommy…you should really see mine and Ali’s city on Minecraft.”

After the first few Hey Mommys my brain feels like Louis C.K.



After ten more Hey Mommys (and we haven’t even gotten out of the neighborhood yet) I feel like Klum.



At Hey Mommy number 25 (we might have made it to the interstate by now) my insides are full-on Snape.



Halfway through our 20 minute trip we reach Hey Mommy number 53 and all I hear and see and feel and am is Schwarzenegger.



It’s rough being so thoroughly loved. But it’s precisely why we become Mommies.

7 thoughts on “It’s Hard Work Being His Favorite.

  1. I feel ya! I asked my incessant talker, “”Don’t you ever just want to be by yourself…you know, alone time?” His answer: but I am alone when I sleep!!!

  2. I’m sending this to my sister because she has all the feels. And let’s all sympathize with Snape/Schwarzenegger (would that I could combine those gifs).

  3. My son is just like this. I am always his favorite…. and he totally knows how to work it to his advantage. Just when I feel like I’ve had enough he will come up to me and say “mom, I haven’t snuggled you in awhile’ and climb into my lap. Never mind that he is 6 and doesn’t quite fit in my lap like he used to. I just can’t never say no. :).

  4. Wow, this sounds all too familiar. River is 11 and it hasnt stopped yet! At this age most of his many, MANY sentences to me start with excruciatingly detailed description of his Nerf guns, the latest game he is playing on Roblox, what he wants to build in Minecraft, or his various sports-related adventures on the school playground. I know the time is probably coming soon when he stops, and I suppose I will be sad then, but it is still exhausting in the meanwhile!

  5. Let me start saying that I LOVE my daughter (also, I only have one child). However, I will literally hear “I love you” 20 times in an hour. She will call my name even when we are the only two home, or in the car together. She just turned 11 but she wants to be on me or in my face ALL OF THE TIME. I am an introvert and not a morning person. On the car ride to school / work I want to hear music, maybe some traffic and weather. I choose my radio station based on the lack of talking. 102.5 The Bull since we are both in B’ham. But in the mornings I get questions like “How are cars made?” “Why is the sky blue?” “Why can I see the sun and the moon?” “Why do cats purr?” “Why do dogs bark?” “Why did God give me blue eyes?” “What year is this car?” “Why is your favorite color blue?” At least she has never just asked “Why?” EVERY. SINGLE. MORNING. I am thankful she is still talking to me because I know before too long, I will not be cool enough or too dumb or whatever teenagers believe about their parents. I was not blessed with a lot of patience before my child was born, and now I think the universe is playing a joke on me. But I wouldn’t trade her for anything.

  6. I have heard that boys have a special bond with their mothers….haha! Thankfully my children usually can distract each other so I don’t have to deal with this ALL day…but I definitely have my moments! Mostly with my child that I secretly call the Riddler. She asks so many questions and at such speeds that I don’t have time to answer the questions before she has moved on to new ones. Sigh. :P

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