My Granddaughter Has Two Mommies

by Jo Robertson

Okay, now that I’ve gotten your attention, let me explain what I mean. My baby daughter has been tending my oldest daughter’s children for eight years while Mommy #1 works. Both mommies parent in very similar ways, and the children obey both as if that person were the “real” mommy.

But there are differences.

Mommy #1 is the woman who carried Annie for nine months, suffering a bad back, gas, heartburn, unbelievable pain as Annie squatted on the sciatica for nearly nine months, and untold other pregnancy ailments. Mommy #1 gave birth. She is the disciplinarian, the one who puts Annie to bed at night, who takes her to the doctor (sometimes) and teaches her manners (always).

Mommy #2 is the fun mommy. She romps and rolls on the floor, she plays games, and she teases. Ironically, she is a disciplinarian also, being more germaphobic than Mommy #1. Annie calls Mommy #2 May-May and Mommy #1 Maw-Maw. Sometimes I can’t tell the difference and neither, I suspect, can Annie.

Sometimes when Annie wakes up in the night, cutting teeth or experiencing a tummy ache, she’ll look around her mother’s arms and ask plaintively, “Where May-May?”

I’m sure eighteen-month old Annie knows which Mommy is her birth mommy and which her surrogate mommy, but she also knows how to play the game. When we’re all in a public place and baby is feeling particularly diva-ish, she will only go to May-May, peeking from underneath amazingly thick lashes as if to let everyone know who’s in charge.

Annie’s pretty lucky, I think, to have two mommies. We should all be so fortunate.

I think most of us women also have another person in our lives besides our mothers, another BFF to whom we tell secrets, fears, disappointments, perhaps ones we don’t even tell our significant others.

Undoubtedly, there’s something to that male bonding thing. But I don’t think I could manage without my female friends, three of whom just happen to be my daughters.

As writers, we rely on that other friend. We call her a critique partner. She’s unflinchingly honest and unfailingly kind. She’s the cheerleader, coach, and critic.

So my question to you is: Who is that BFF you couldn’t live without? An aunt, a sister, a neighbor, a friend, or maybe your critique partner if you’re a writer. Why?