You know what I’m talking about. That special high-pitched, sweet-as-a-candy-apple, borderline-condescending tone.
And I think it’s probably a little bit annoying.
But I no longer care.
I did care, at the beginning. In those first several weeks, I would walk through Target with Ryan and glance over my shoulder as I cooed at him, “I know! Target again! Mommy is craaaazy, isn’t she?? She loooooves Target. You’re such a good little boy to tag along. Good, and handsome, too! Yes, you arrrrre. You’re just the most handsome boy any mommy could ever have!“
I admit it – I was a little embarrassed to do this as I walked past the security guard at the front of the store. That didn’t stop me, of course, but I could almost feel him internally groaning.
But now, four and a half months into this parenting thing, I have totally embraced my Mom Voice.
For one thing, it’s at the bottom of the “Things I should be embarrassed about” list these days. Let’s face it: Nothing compares to the noises you’ll make to get your kid to laugh and the songs you’ll sing to distract him when he’s mad.
Also: Every mom on Earth has the same exact voice. I sort of figured that was the case, but the point was really driven home on Friday as I arrived at daycare to pick Ryan up. As I crossed the parking lot, a little boy was running joyfully down the sidewalk, away from the center, with his mom chasing behind him. The mom was running with at least equal excitement, yelling “Run, birthday boy, run!” in a classic mom voice. As we passed each other, I laughed and she winked.
Another 10 feet down, I passed a mom who was carrying a boy of about a year old and saying, “Ohhhh, you’re sooooo silly. What am I going to do with such a silly boy?!” I smiled at her and my smile said, “Yep, I have a silly boy, too.” She smiled back.
And most importantly, for whatever reason, my Mom Voice elicits this response: