Sometimes when I watch my children play I’m struck by how insanely beautiful they are. Yes, I know every mom thinks her kids are gorgeous so I try to be objective, I look hard at them, I try to pretend they aren’t mine, and then I still think they’re stunning.
I’ve thought this for a long time, but I haven’t ever said it. Who goes around saying, “Aren’t my kids beautiful?” No, people tell you your daughters are pretty, you smile, say thanks, and change the conversation. That’s the right thing to do in polite society.
And then there’s the whole superstition thing. You’re not supposed to call attention to your children’s looks in case the wrong attention should be drawn. And while I don’t give any truck to that kind of old wives’ tale, I do find myself gripped by the terrible fear that maybe my children look like angels because they are destined to become angels way before their time. It’s my deepest darkest fear, that someone so perfect can’t possibly be allowed to live long.
So I stick with the polite thing and I downplay people’s compliments. I don’t go around telling people I think my children are breathtakingly stunning. And yet, sometimes I take pictures that I can’t stop looking at, which is really an issue when they’re the background on my phone. And I want to go around showing people so I can bask in their delight and comments about my babies. And sometimes I do, because who cares about convention and superstition when you have babies like this to show off?
Originally posted on It’s my life…