Only Mama’s Milk
By Dennis Hatfield
My daughter often calls and when I answer the phone she says, “Dad, can I speak to mom”? I am always somewhat miffed because she doesn’t want to discuss her dilemma, problem, or simple question with me. Because I am 50% responsible for creating her and am somewhat irritated with her not wanting to share even the smallest intimacy with me I never fail to ask her “do you need some Mama’s milk”? She becomes very irritated and refuses to talk with me further. I am always touched and at least slightly jealous that my offspring (including my young adult son) relish any opportunity to spend “cuddly” moments with mom. Apparently my son too needs “Mama’s milk” that only she can provide. Heck, even the dog (raised from infancy by mom) refuses to recognize anyone else when mom is near. This drives the kids wild and they begin to understand the power this woman has and how I feel in my second fiddle role.
In this world of political correctness with all its rules and laws designed to prevent discrimination, guys, we are almost always discriminated against. It is, however, a form of discrimination not worth fighting. Nature has delegated to us the “Alpha Male” role and to her the role of “matriarch”. I can deal with this because I love my children unconditionally in my “Alpha Male” way, I understand her role, and because I have my mom, her memories, and I can still get “Mama’s milk” on demand. Mom carried me in her womb for 9 months, breastfed me, cleaned up my many messes, and nurtured me during those defenseless, formative, infant years. She was always there with early dinner and snacks when I came home from school and then left almost immediately for baseball, football, basketball, or other extracurricular activities. She hand-made tight fitting, “designer clothes” for me when our family couldn’t afford to buy what other cool kids were wearing. She didn’t even seem upset when I was so sick I vomited all over my room from the top bunk bed. Mom calmed me and let me know she understood my pain and still loved me when I accidentally almost crushed my brothers’ skull with a baseball bat. I watched in amazement when she attacked a doctor who was causing me great pain while diagnosing an obviously broken collarbone. Mom was also a great taxi cab driver for everyone in our large family.
Though nearly an old man, I still relish the moments I spend just small talking with mom on the phone or during her short and all too infrequent visits. She still cares for me and waits on me like I am her baby. Dad, I love you but you are the “Alpha Male” and mom has “Mama’s milk”.
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