Jennifer asked in a comment the other day if my blog is named “BooMama” because I call my little boy “Boo.”
Yes. That is correct, your honor.
I wonder if people maybe think that it’s my nickname, if they think that my friends call me on the phone and say, “Hey, BooMama, what’s going on?”
But that is not the case. Praise the Lord, that is not the case.
And “Peaches” is my nickname, in case you were wondering. At least in my family (though come to think of it, Bubba calls me that, too). And somehow a blog called “Peaches” just seemed wrong, all wrong, though I’m sure that whoever has a blog called “Peaches” is doing an absolutely lovely job with it.
So here’s how “BooMama” came to pass.
My husband and I lived in south Louisiana when we were first married. We loved our time there – wonderful people, colorful culture, and the food…oh, the food. Divine, the food is.
But the grammar? From time to time? Not so great.
I realize that I must throw these regional grammatical stones very gently because I am a native of Mississippi who now lives in Alabama, and therefore I have little if any wiggling room in the area of proper English usage. I mean, if you could hear my Southern accent? Wow. It’s bad. Or I should say, “Baaa-yad,” because that’s what the word sounds like when I say it. Saaaaaay it. :-)
But here’s the deal. Some south Louisianians – some, not most – do not see any need for an apostrophe. Or a possessive pronoun. They simply form a possessive phrase by putting one noun in front of another (and if you live down there, you know exactly what I’m talking about).
Allow me to illustrate:
“All right – I’ll be at Mamaw house if you need me.”
“I may be running a little late because I have to stop by Daddy office.”
“Y’all be careful since y’all drivin’ Suzy car.”
It used to entertain us to no end. That part of the world is fun and unique for many reasons, and the language tics are the icing on the proverbial king cake.
Somehow, after Alex was born and his daddy started calling him “Boo,” every possessive phrase regarding Alex took on a south Louisiana flavor: “Did you wash Boo pajamas? Did you put Boo in he bed? Did you remember Boo diaper?” And on. And on. And on.
It only stands to reason that I would become “BooMama.” It was a matter of consistency, really.
We did have to ease up on our Boo slang once Alex started talking, because we didn’t want him to walk in his kindergarten class saying, “This is Alex lunch. I need to give you my mama note, because after school I’m goin’ to Charlie house!”
It’s bad enough that he’ll be saddled with this whole “BooMama” deal for the rest of his life. I can only hope that Boo will understand he mama sense of humor.