The hosts of an Atlanta radio station were taken aback when they heard Colby call me “Geri” during our interview. “Did I hear your son call you by your name?” one host asked in astonishment? “That would never fly down South,” she said, as if we were committing a crime.
I explained that I wouldn’t have dreamed of calling my mother and father anything other than “mom” and “dad.” That’s what they were to me and that’s how they defined themselves, anyway. If someone had asked my mom to describe herself, she would have said “wife and mother.”
But I don’t define myself by my motherhood, career or any other single role. I’m FOF “Geri.” And I actually love when Colby calls me by my name. After all, I’m more than a mom to him, as I’ve said here before. I’m a friend, a boss (he works at my company), a mother, a therapist, a clothing advisor.
I don’t think it shows a miniscule of disrepect to call your mom by her name. As the mom in question, I think it’s pretty darn cool.