No, that extra “o” isn’t a type-o.
We call our mom “Moom” because she’s such an awesome mom she deserves an extra “o” in her name.
Actually, this term of endearment came about when our mother was 39 years old and pregnant with our only brother while we four sisters were between the ages of ten and sixteen.
We had great fun at her expense during those nine months, but we figured she had it coming for going and getting herself knocked up at her age and bringing such shame and embarrassment upon us.
One day, when Mom was getting close to her download date, her protruding girth had trapped her on the waterbed and, try as she might, she couldn’t get out of it. My sister and I were standing nearby and felt no urgency to help our poor mother despite her polite asking, then pleading, then threatening.
My sister and I were big Muppet fans and often liked to give sarcastic Statler and Waldorf commentary from the balcony, and this seemed like a perfect opportunity to do so.
Statler: “She better stop making waves on that thing or the undercurrent might pull her under.”
Waldorf: “There’s no way she could drown with that big buoy tucked under her dress.”
Both: “Ah, ha ha ha ha!”
Statler: “Come on, you can do it. Just say ‘I think I can, I think I can!'”
Waldorf: “Be the ball.”
Statler: “Mind over matter, or should I say fatter!”
Both: “Ah, ha ha ha ha!”
While we chortled over our cleverness, Mom gave up the fight and just laid there in the middle of the bed, helpless.
I noticed her pathetic state and mock sympathetically said, “Oh Mom. You look so blue. You’re our poor, blue . . .”
“Moom,” my sister finished.
This prompted another clever idea. We burst into song with an improvised version of Ella Fitzgerald’s classic tune Blue Moon:
We saw you stuck there alone,
Without a person to help,
Without the strength of your own.
We knew just what you were there for,
We heard you saying a prayer for,
Someone who’d really give care for.
That’s as far into the song as we got before Mom got a sudden burst of strength and miraculously sprang from the waterbed.
We hightailed it outta there.
She was pretty quick on her feet for a middle-aged broad in a family way.
The name “Moom” stuck, and that’s what we’ve lovingly called her ever since.
And it fits.
She is more than just a “mom.” She’s worth the extra “o” because she puts up with a lot and yet at 67 years young, she’s still smiling, singing, living, and loving us.
We love you, Moom.