Ellie is Irish. Mommy is…NOT.

So I have noticed that almost every friend and family member that meets Ellie for the first time has nearly the same response.

And it is comical.

It goes something like this…

The person will peek into the stroller or over my shoulder while saying, “Ooooohhhh….does she look like YOU?”

And then the person will see her face and pause…Sort of the same type of pause that I heard when I told some of my co-workers that I was pregnant.

PAUSE. (look up at me) PAUSE.  (look up at me again).

And then the person will say something like…

“Weeeeeeeeeell she…doesn’t really have your skin color.”

OR

“Um…wow…she is beautiful…she looks like she will have light eyes?????” (that is code for not brown eyes).

OR MY FAVORITE

“…she has your…(PAUSE, stare at her face, PAUSE, stare at her face)…cheeks.”

Telling me my daughter, who is in the 90th percentile for weight, has my cheeks is a kind way of saying I have a fat face.  And that’s fine.  My cheeks have and always will be ample.  I accept that.

I also accept that Ellie looks like her father.  It’s okay.  Say it with me folks…IT’S OKAY.

Did it bother me?

Um, at first it was a little hard to wrap my head around the fact that the person that jabbed their head in my ribs for months on end looks nothing like me.  It bothered me when I was sleep deprived and 5 days postpartum…but then again…everything bothered me during those first few days.

And then I recalled that my sister’s children look just like her husband and that I look like my father would if he dressed in drag.

And I promise you…I meant what I said when I was pregnant and people would ask if I was concerned that she would look like him.  I believe I said, “NO…I am concerned that terrorists will blow up Times Square or that the crazy man on the subway has a weapon.”

And the vain part of me does recall that Ellie’s father happens to be a pretty good looking person (obviously or we wouldn’t have dear little Ellie) so IT IS OKAY.

You don’t need to sugar coat it, or do that apprehensive face or tell me that evolution has made it so that babies look like their father’s when they are born so their father’s protect them and don’t eat them.

It’s all good.

And being Irish isn’t so bad.  In fact, when I was showing off her photos last week at Irish watering hole by my office, the bartender noticed the lack of melatonin in Ellie’s skin immediately and then asked for my phone number.

I looked perplexed and she said, “Well I am going to buy her something for Paddy’s Day so you can dress her up.”

Oh, obviously.

This was entertaining for two reasons…

1. It was said as if I might not be capable of finding something green to put her in.
2. In my past life, I had spent enough time at this bar that the bartender is inclined to buy outfits for Ellie. Something that didn’t occur to me until one of the people I was with said, “Um, how well do you know these bartenders???”

So ladies and gentlemen, I think Ellie the cutest little girl in the world.  Tied for cuteness with her cousin Reagan, of course.  And that’s all that really matters.

Well that and I am pretty sure she has my smile.

 

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