Unobservant mom
So shoot me, I'm an unobservant mom. Which pisses me off about myself, since one of my primary complaints about my own mother was how she seemingly could not manage to see things that were right under her nose (like, oh, my losing twenty pounds in one month, when I was 14 and in my Depressed Anorexic phase) ... and here I am, blind as a bat myself to something even more obvious. Gah.
A club that we belong to has a big picnic for all the members once a year, usually at a very nice big park in St. Helena. The park is filled with big ol' coastal oaks (75 feet tall at least, craggily romantic in their twists and turns, and providing lots of shade), and very pleasant. The other members of our group urged us to bring the boys so that everyone could meet them, and since it was likely not to be too hot, and it's a very shady area, I said okay. Mind you, I went on a hunt the day before for appropriate sunscreen for babies (ended up with one with an SPF of 50!), and freaked out a bit about keeping them cool enough ... but still, we managed to get out of the house that day only about 45 minutes late, and with me more or less keeping it together, despite my anxiety about this first big outing to the great outdoors.
Of course, our friends all oohed and aahed over the boys, which I was expecting -- but to my puzzlement, they kept referring to Gus as a redhead. "Um, excuse me," I'd reply politely, "but he's really more blond." He was ash blond when he was born (with tons of hair, as babies go), and while it had turned somewhat more golden rather than ashy as the weeks went by, still, I know what my kid looks like, right? And he's blond. So there.
Except that when enough people called him "Red," I finally took a really good look at his hair, there in the filtered sunlight. And you know what? Yeah, you're way ahead of me. Yup, it's definitely beyond "golden" now -- his hair has morphed all the way into the strawberry blond category, and is just a click short of what I would call true red hair.
So this is good news in one way. My mom was a redhead born, with beautiful auburn curls and translucent pink skin, and I always envied her the red hair. Which is a bit nonsensical, actually, since I was ash blonde myself when I was younger, and actually had really gorgeous hair for a long time (down to my waist until just a couple of years ago). When I was pregnant, I said that if I had my druthers, I'd like one redhead and one blond. (Hm -- kind of looks like I got both in one, actually.)
But the bad news is that I MISSED THIS FOR WEEKS. Gaaaaah. I mean, I just can't believe how unobservant I was. Truly, this makes me nervous about the future. I've always felt I would be a good mom in at least one way: I would never miss things because I'd be watching my kids like a hawk, knowing firsthand the dangers that are out there.
And now this.
Well, I've been needing new glasses, but put it off since they tell you not to get them while you're pregnant. (Believe it or not, the shape of the eyeball changes while you're knocked up. No, I am not making this up.) So maybe if I get new glasses now, I can convince myself that I missed this (major!) development due to my crappy old scratched-up glasses. Yeah, that's the ticket.
Lordy ... it's going to be a long 18 years.
A club that we belong to has a big picnic for all the members once a year, usually at a very nice big park in St. Helena. The park is filled with big ol' coastal oaks (75 feet tall at least, craggily romantic in their twists and turns, and providing lots of shade), and very pleasant. The other members of our group urged us to bring the boys so that everyone could meet them, and since it was likely not to be too hot, and it's a very shady area, I said okay. Mind you, I went on a hunt the day before for appropriate sunscreen for babies (ended up with one with an SPF of 50!), and freaked out a bit about keeping them cool enough ... but still, we managed to get out of the house that day only about 45 minutes late, and with me more or less keeping it together, despite my anxiety about this first big outing to the great outdoors.
Of course, our friends all oohed and aahed over the boys, which I was expecting -- but to my puzzlement, they kept referring to Gus as a redhead. "Um, excuse me," I'd reply politely, "but he's really more blond." He was ash blond when he was born (with tons of hair, as babies go), and while it had turned somewhat more golden rather than ashy as the weeks went by, still, I know what my kid looks like, right? And he's blond. So there.
Except that when enough people called him "Red," I finally took a really good look at his hair, there in the filtered sunlight. And you know what? Yeah, you're way ahead of me. Yup, it's definitely beyond "golden" now -- his hair has morphed all the way into the strawberry blond category, and is just a click short of what I would call true red hair.
So this is good news in one way. My mom was a redhead born, with beautiful auburn curls and translucent pink skin, and I always envied her the red hair. Which is a bit nonsensical, actually, since I was ash blonde myself when I was younger, and actually had really gorgeous hair for a long time (down to my waist until just a couple of years ago). When I was pregnant, I said that if I had my druthers, I'd like one redhead and one blond. (Hm -- kind of looks like I got both in one, actually.)
But the bad news is that I MISSED THIS FOR WEEKS. Gaaaaah. I mean, I just can't believe how unobservant I was. Truly, this makes me nervous about the future. I've always felt I would be a good mom in at least one way: I would never miss things because I'd be watching my kids like a hawk, knowing firsthand the dangers that are out there.
And now this.
Well, I've been needing new glasses, but put it off since they tell you not to get them while you're pregnant. (Believe it or not, the shape of the eyeball changes while you're knocked up. No, I am not making this up.) So maybe if I get new glasses now, I can convince myself that I missed this (major!) development due to my crappy old scratched-up glasses. Yeah, that's the ticket.
Lordy ... it's going to be a long 18 years.
posted by Hetty Fauxvert at 11:20 PM
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