You’re not my Mom…

He looked at me with his baby blues and wailed. Not a little, but a lot…a whole lot. He didn’t need to know how to talk. His unending screams and every rigid  muscle in his body spoke to me. “You’re not my Mom.”

What am I rambling on about?

We had a wonderful Canada Day long weekend at home with family, sharing stories and laughter. My daughter and her husband went out to watch the Spain vs Italy soccer match at a sports bar and we got to take care of the baby.

We were excited. It was our first time to have him all to ourselves. And all bragging aside, at four months he is the world’s most perfect baby. All he does is smile and coo.

Until his parents leave… then we got to see he’s truly human. Which is good…I think.

It got me to thinking about how humans communicate. Babies are so good at it. Adults…not so much.

Why is that? Why do we stop being natural and letting our emotions show clearly? Is it societal pressures? Maybe, but I think it’s more complex than that. There seems to be a disconnect that happens between our brain, heart and mouth, like  messages get confused and muddled as they flow through our body. It’s good fodder for Romance novels, but it can be Hell in real life.

I tried to imagine an initial encounter between a man and a woman who are communicating honestly.


He moved closer to her. She lifted her left brow and said, “Your ears are too big, buddy.”

Laughing, his eyes swept over her body lingering here and there. “So’s your butt, but I like that.”

She tossed her head flipping her long silken black hair over her bare shoulder. “You still involved with the bottled blonde with the voice like a screeching cat?”

“Depends on how friendly you wanna be.”


Nah…it doesn’t work. The complexities of our unsaid emotions brews a mystery that makes people and books  interesting.

Anyways…those are my musings for today. Let babies scream their truth and adults hide theirs.

Author: Jo-Ann Carson

About Jo-Ann Carson Where magic happens … Reports of Jo-Ann Carson’s death on a Gulf Island are greatly exaggerated or, at the very least, premature. The eclectic crew of ghosts that haunt her head spill onto the page in two series: The Gambling Ghosts and The Ghost & Abby Mysteries. A Viking with existential issues, a broken hearted Highlander, a Casanova man-witch and a Pirate with a secret are just a few of the males her strong heroines encounter in tales of fantasy, adventure and romance. A firm believer in the magic of our everyday lives, Jo-Ann loves watching sunrises, walking beaches near her home in the Pacific Northwest and reading by the fire. You can visit her on social media: Website * Blog * Twitter * Facebook

2 thoughts on “You’re not my Mom…”

  1. Great post and so true about people. Adults build walls so they won’t get hurt. When someone asks us whats wrong…we say “Nothing” meaning “Something” is wrong. That why I guess they call life a journey. We are constantly trying to figure people out. We analyze words, actions, facial expressions. Or maybe that’s just me! 🙂 I love your last line.


    1. Hi Diane
      Thanks for your kind words. Makes my day.
      I agree life is a journey, and writing even more so (if that’s possible) as we create worlds and within them people with journeys. It feels, at times, like I’m living in a magnified world. Heady stuff.
      Happy July 4th.


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