Mamma Mia!

While we try and encourage a fair and diplomatic atmosphere around Amelie, it is evident that Carla and I have an underlying rivalry brewing. On occasion, this manifests itself in a few jibes concerning parenting skills, or lack thereof; all done in jest you understand, but still, there is no joke without truth. And while I like to proud myself on being a very considerate and loving father, I am average in comparison to Carla’s mothering skills. Without getting too mawkish, Carla is always with heart when the incessant bawling weakens mine. She has energy to keep Amelie’s spirits high whenever I am exhausted. And more importantly, she has patience when mine has given up the ghost. Without her support and unconditional love, I would have wavered and Amelie would, I am sure, not have awaked, or entered each room of our home, without meeting a smiling face. I owe her happiness to my wife, that much is true.

That said, there is this competitiveness between us. For example, while Carla was on maternity leave, she assumed most of Amelie’s significant achievements would be for her to observe first and recounted to myself later. As it was, Amelie kindly waited until evening or weekends to sit up without support, take her first steps, drink from a cup, clap her hands and other various jaw-dropping moments. And while happiness ensued for us both, there was a sly remark made by Carla after each occasion, each sullied with a hint of resentment. Only a hint, mind. Amelie also, much to my wife’s irritation, was able to say Dadda first. This is not uncommon, as the baby’s verbal skills master the “d”s before the “m”s. Still, no matter how much I tried convincing Carla of this, it comes as no surprised she was a little disappointed. In truth, she has spent at least five minutes of every day thereafter trying her best to get Amelie to alleviate the heartache of not hearing her name.

And it was yesterday her efforts finally paid off. In the presence of Carla, and no one else, Amelie said the one word Carla had been aching to hear for months. With her sweet and underdeveloped voice Amelie said, “Mamma”. “Mamma”. And it was no fluke either, for later that night Amelie mimicked Carla once again and allowed me the privilege of hearing it for myself. I must admit, it sounded much more delicate and delivered with much more emotion than any of my Daddas. But this time, I wasn’t bitter. There was no sly remark delivered. It was overwhelming to hear, and so very pleasing to witness the expression of complete happiness on my wife’s face.