being a mom
The Little Dude I Gave Birth To Looks Nothing Like Me
UPDATE: I was unaware that a similar article appeared in another news source online, as pointed out by our reader Hannah. The policy of Mommyish is that we only accept previously unpublished work, and had I know the articles were so similar I wouldn’t have published this. Thank you, E
My son Holt, at 19 months now, is a seriously gorgeous baby. I canâ€™t walk anywhere with him, without people wanting to touch him or comment on how cute he is or make him high five them. Every parent, of course, believes that their own baby is cute and gorgeous and from a parentâ€™s perspective, they are.
I can’t look at my son, completely objectively, when it comes to his looks. Why? Because, even after 19, months the little dude looks absolutely nothing like me. When I say, â€œNothing like me,â€ I really mean, he looks NOTHING like me. I have dark hair, olive skin and green eyes. My daughter looks almost exactly like me, except she has brown eyes, but the shape of our eyes, face, lips, hair color and skin tone is almost identical, and has been since she was born.
But my son however? He takes after his father when it comes to looks. My son has ocean blue eyes, blond hair that too many people to count have said they would â€œpayâ€ to have the same hair color, and heâ€™s very light skinned, the type of skin that he will need 50 sun block for the rest of his life.
Oh how many times have I heard, â€œHe looks so much like his father! Itâ€™s uncanny!â€ Or, â€œNo doubt who the father is.â€ And, â€œObviously, heâ€™s isnâ€™t the mailmanâ€™s!
Iâ€™ve also heard, too many times to count, â€œHe looks nothing like you!â€ Duh.
And, often when I carry him, I do get looks from strangers that suggest, I think, that they are wondering, â€œHow are those two related?â€ In fact, Iâ€™ve been asked, even though Iâ€™m pushing him in his stroller, and Iâ€™m singing to him, if he IS my son.
Holt and I do not resemble each other at all. He looks like I could have adopted him or I am his babysitter or nanny. Of course I love him to bits, but for some reason, I just want him to have at least one of my features.
For the first year of his life, I thought, â€œWell, heâ€™ll change. He has to look a little like me at some point.â€ But now I believe that heâ€™s never going to look like me at all. Not even a little bit. Ever. It is super nice to hear, â€œYou have the cutest baby in the world,â€ and, â€œWhat stunning blue eyes he has,â€ and, â€œOh look how long his lashes are!â€ The compliments make me happy, but not joyous, like how I can see the joy and pride on my fiancÃ©â€™s face when people say, â€œHe looks exactly like you!â€ or the pride I feel when people tell me my daughter is my mini-me.
Is it that Iâ€™m feeling left out? Or is it that I carried the little guy for nine months and shouldnâ€™t he have at least the shape of my eyes or even ears, since he has some (I know) of my genes? He also has a dimple in his chin and one on his cheek. I donâ€™t have any dimples (unless you include the ones on my ass, which I think are called â€˜celluliteâ€™ rather than â€œdimples.â€)
So, yes, I admit that I am a little jealous that, looks wise, he takes entirely after his father. And if you ever wondered if â€œblondes have more fun,â€ while I canâ€™t exactly answer as a brunette, but I can say that blond/blue eyed babies get a heck of a lot more attention than brown haired/brown eyed babies. This may be a sweeping generalization, but itâ€™s been my experience with my children.
My daughter never received as much attention or compliments as my son does, while she was a baby. When we vacation in Mexico, I canâ€™t push the stroller with Holt for more than thirty seconds before strangers are rubbing his hair (Hate that!) or looking at his eyes and saying how amazing they are.