(Aunt) of the Year

Sometimes my talking niece (as opposed the one who just shrieks and gurgles still) slips up and calls me "mom." I don't tell my sister-in-law this because I think it would hurt my feelings if my kid did this to another woman. I'm not talking about that embarrassing moment when you called your 2nd-Grade teacher "mom" out of familiarity and by mistake. No, it's pretty consistent. Anyway, let me first clarify and say that there is no mistake that Mom (the girls' REAL mom) is easily #1 in their lives. When SIL is around, the kids want very little to do with me, and I'm ok with that. But can I confess something? I don't always bother to correct little Miss Z. I mean, why embarrass her (did you know that 2-year-olds get embarrassed? It totally happens), and secretly, it's sweet to hear someone call me that, even if it's a mistake.
On the other hand, I'm not sure if I'm really a good sub Mom. I do think, however, that I'm Super Aunt. My duties include teaching the girls how to sing Polish folk songs and to do other funny little tricks, like singing a high-pitched "wooooh" at the end of songs in tribute to the Beatles, or to finish a beverage with a jazzed-up "Zig-a-zig" preceding the "ahh" for some Spice Girls sassiness. Z loves to do "paperwork" with Aunt Rachel and has her own office supplies-- how I love my little CEO-in-training! I paint her fingernails and toenails, and I love parading her around at Walmart and Target where she says hello to strangers (under my very close supervision, of course, but she is a Sego after all-- we don't know any strangers). Even disgusting things like taking her to the potty aren't terrible. I got a real kick out of her face yesterday while she was um, straining to do her business. She announced, "Oh, that was a big one!" Sorry, I know this is gross, and you all probably read over here because you don't get the child BM report, but it was SOOOO funny, especially because all her effort didn't really produce much. Poor little thing!
But Z (and P now as well) and I have so many grand adventures together. The other day we sat in my mom's car while she made a quick run into Costco. We people-watched, and got to see an old man with Conway Twitty hair, cowboy suit pants (the shiny ones-- ugh!), a plastic-looking leather vest, and a shiny, baby-blue Members Only Jacket. He was parked across from us and we got a look at the little red plastic cowboy boot hanging from his rear view mirror. Without provocation, Z recognized that something was up with this brother. We both had a good laugh.
Additionally, I told her last night that my friend Rudy was coming over. She then verified this information via question, "You have a friend coming over tonight Rachy?" I said, "Yes. Do you remember when you came over to my house for Easter? You met him. His name is Rudy. He is very cute." She said, "I like him, he's cuuude." It made me laugh. I asked her who she liked better-- little Rudy or Big Jake, because Big Jake is coming over tonight. She said she likes Big Jake. I'm not sure it's because I said his name second, or if it is because she does indeed remember "Big Jake." Regardless, the child makes me laugh.
Anyway, maybe it's silly. Maybe it's my fabled biological clock is ticking. Maybe it's because in my culture, Motherhood is the most important thing ever (which I completely buy into, even though I'm grateful I'm having all this time of freedom before that happens). But I'm beginning to see why parents get so excited about their children. Paizlee has two bottom teeth now, and is the cutest baby ever. She looks like a Cabbage Patch Kid! Still, I know I'm not fit for motherhood yet because I'm sorely tempted to temporarily tattoo the name "Xavier Roberts" on her precious little bum.