“Little Girl, are you lost?” I grabbed at my mother’s skirt to show the supermarket clerk that I belonged to someone. “No. This is my Mommy.” I told her. She looked stunned, apologized and then walked away. That was my first awakening to America’s color obsession and my first realization that my mom and I didn’t “look” like Mother and Daughter. My mother had auburn hair and stunningly fair skin. I was an exotic, ethnically ambiguous cinnamon girl with thick, black hair. Growing up ethnically mixed during the 80’s and 90’s was no picnic. Even though I grew up in the progressive San Francisco Bay Area, people still focused on our color differences. We were bonded in the truest sense. We were as close as a parent and child can be. Yet, she soon endured diaper changes where I kicked at her and told her she was not my Mother. Maybe this was painful for her or maybe she wondered where it was coming from. I guess I was hoping it was painful at the time, so I could show her the angst I was feeling that we didn’t match. I felt unnatural.

Fast-forward 26 years later. This cinnamon girl married a full-bred Russian man with white, ruddy skin and green eyes. A year later, I had given birth to a strawberry blonde boy with porcelain skin and hazel eyes. He’s 9 months old now. Here we are in 2016, still in the progressive San Francisco Bay Area and we receive a lot of puzzled looks, especially from the older crowd. When we go for walks in the more affluent areas, there is whispering accompanied by the stares. I make a lot of jokes about it to make myself feel better. I question when someone will ask if he’s lost when he’s standing right by me. I wonder when someone will ask me which family I nanny for. It secretly rips at me a little now and then. When it does, I eventually fear the day he kicks me during a diaper change and accuses me of being a stranger, an imposter, wondering where his red headed porcelain Mommy is.

I’m not sure where all the confusion lies, especially with well-educated adults. Genetics is no longer the abstract that it once was. People are spitting into tubes in the comfort of their living rooms to find out their ancestry or their risk for certain diseases. Heck, you can take your rescue dog to the vet and they’ll tell you what breeds your prized mix is made up of. So, those recessive genes you learned about in middle school seem pretty basic in this day and age. However, this all seems to change when people are faced with a stroller coming at them. I call these, “stroller expectations”. You see it play out on their faces, the thought process as they glance mother to baby, baby to mother. We don’t always get the smiles that other mommy baby pairs get. That’s because their expectations were not met and this can be unsatisfying.

I don’t think these people are racist. I don’t even think they really care. It’s likely an unimportant, mindless observation they are making to themselves and each other on a relaxing stroll mid-day or a rushed supermarket trip after work. I get it. I do it, too. However, these subtle social cues and judgments that we make towards complete strangers in our daily lives can have real, harmful implications, especially where children are involved. I know that one day my son will have his realization that we don’t “match.” It may not affect him as profoundly as it did me as a young child. However, how he has that realization is very important to me. I want it to fascinate him and show him how special it makes him. I want him to ask the question “why?” and for us to have a trip around the world explaining his four ethnicities. I want to teach him about genetics and how important science is in our self-knowing. I want him to know that we look alike but in other ways. I want to explain how color is an unimportant blip in the human genome. I want to explain hybrid vigor and Mendel and his peas.

Most importantly, I want him to know he belongs to me and to the world. We don’t match but we complement. No, our family pictures aren’t an amalgam of white faces or brown faces but a speckled map of beautiful faces with love in their eyes. Our family is a woven tapestry of love, color and vibrancy. We have rich stories from old, ancient cultures that he will learn and pass on. He is special and profound in his very existence. Frankly, it’s pretty cool to think that he maybe the only Russian, East Indian, Armenian and Scottish strawberry blonde kid in the world. He is a baby of the future, the most vigorous of hybrids and he belongs to me.

So God Made a Mother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A MOTHER available now!

Order Now

Check out our new Keepsake Companion Journal that pairs with our So God Made a Mother book!

Order Now
So God Made a Mother's Story Keepsake Journal

Amber Hayes

Amber Hayes is a Writer, Mother & Wife. She currently lives in California's Sierra Foothills with her Husband and Son. She is a native of the Bay Area and has both traveled and lived abroad. Amber is passionate about healthy eating, cooking, gardening and her family. She has many hobby studies including: Nutrigenomics, Epigenetics, Child Development and Homesteading.

Our Kids Need Us as Much as We Need Them

In: Kids, Motherhood
Little boy sitting on bench with dog nearby, color photo

During a moment of sadness last week, my lively and joyful toddler voluntarily sat with me on the couch, holding hands and snuggling for a good hour. This brought comfort and happiness to the situation. At that moment, I realized sometimes our kids need us, sometimes we need them, and sometimes we need each other at the same time. Kids need us. From the moment they enter the world, infants express their needs through tiny (or loud) cries. Toddlers need lots of cuddling as their brains try to comprehend black, white, and all the colors of the expanding world around...

Keep Reading

Your Kids Don’t Need More Things, They Need More You

In: Faith, Kids, Motherhood
Mother and young girl smiling together at home

He reached for my hand and then looked up. His sweet smile and lingering gaze flooded my weary heart with much-needed peace. “Thank you for taking me to the library, Mommy! It’s like we’re on a date! I like it when it’s just the two of us.” We entered the library, hand in hand, and headed toward the LEGO table. As I began gathering books nearby, I was surprised to feel my son’s arms around me. He gave me a quick squeeze and a kiss with an “I love you, Mommy” before returning to his LEGO—three separate times. My typically...

Keep Reading

This Time In the Passenger Seat is Precious

In: Kids, Motherhood, Teen
Teen driver with parent in passenger seat

When you’re parenting preteens and teens, it sometimes feels like you are an unpaid Uber driver. It can be a thankless job. During busy seasons, I spend 80 percent of my evenings driving, parking, dropping off, picking up, sitting in traffic, running errands, waiting in drive-thru lines. I say things like buckle your seat belt, turn that music down a little bit, take your trash inside, stop yelling—we are in the car, keep your hands to yourself, don’t make me turn this car around, get your feet off the back of the seat, this car is not a trash can,...

Keep Reading

So God Made My Daughter a Wrestler

In: Kids, Motherhood
Young female wrestler wearing mouth guard and wrestling singlet

God made my girl a wrestler. Gosh, those are words I would never have thought I would say or be so insanely proud to share with you. But I am. I know with 100 percent certainty and overwhelming pride that God made my girl a wrestler. But it’s been a journey. Probably one that started in the spring of 2010 when I was pregnant with my first baby and having the 20-week anatomy ultrasound. I remember hearing the word “girl” and squealing. I was over the moon excited—all I could think about were hair bows and cute outfits. And so...

Keep Reading

A Big Family Can Mean Big Feelings

In: Faith, Kids, Motherhood
Family with many kids holding hands on beach

I’m a mother of six. Some are biological, and some are adopted. I homeschool most of them. I’m a “trauma momma” with my own mental health struggles. My husband and I together are raising children who have their own mental illnesses and special needs. Not all of them, but many of them. I battle thoughts of anxiety and OCD daily. I exercise, eat decently, take meds and supplements, yet I still have to go to battle. The new year has started slow and steady. Our younger kids who are going to public school are doing great in their classes and...

Keep Reading

You May Be a Big Brother, but You’ll Always Be My Baby

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother with young son, color photo

It seems like yesterday we were bringing you home from the hospital. Back then, we were new parents, clueless but full of love—a love that words can hardly explain. I can vividly recall holding you in my arms, rocking you in the cutest nursery, and singing sweet lullabies, just like yesterday. I can picture those times when you were teeny-tiny, doing tummy time, and how proud I was of you for lifting your head. And oh, the happiness on your face when “Baby Shark” played over and over—that song always made you smile! We made sure to capture your growth...

Keep Reading

“It Looks and Tastes Like Candy.” Mom Shares Warning about THC Gummies All Parents Need to Hear

In: Kids, Living, Teen
Hand holding bottle of THC gummies

What Aimee Larsen first thought was a stomach bug turned out to be something much more terrifying for her young son. Her 9-year-old woke up one day last week seeming “lethargic, barely able to stand or speak,” his mom shared in a Facebook post. At first, she assumed he had a virus, but something about his behavior just didn’t seem right. She called an ambulance and asked her older sons if their brother might have gotten into something, like cough syrup or another over-the-counter medicine. Their answer? “Yeah, THC gummies.” THC gummies are an edible form of cannabis that contain...

Keep Reading

My Child with Special Needs Made His Own Way in His Own Time

In: Kids, Motherhood
Mother holding child's hand walking across street

I want to tell you the story of a little boy who came to live with me when he was three years old. Some of you may find this story familiar in your own life. Your little boy or girl may have grown inside you and shares your DNA or maybe they came into your life much older than three. This little boy, this special child, my precious gift has special needs. Just five short years ago, he was a bit mean and angry, he said few understandable words, and there was a lot about this world he didn’t understand. Unless...

Keep Reading

Dear Daughter as You Grow into Yourself

In: Kids, Motherhood, Tween
Girl in hat and dress-up clothes, color photo

My daughter, I watched you stand in front of the mirror, turning your body left and right. Your skirt was too big and your top on backward. Your bright blue eyeshadow reached your eyebrows and bold red blush went up to your ears. You didn’t care. I watched you marvel at your body, feeling completely at ease in your skin. You turned and admired yourself with pride. You don’t see imperfections. You don’t see things you are lacking. You see goodness. You see strength. RELATED: Daughter, When You Look in the Mirror, This is What I Hope You See I’m...

Keep Reading

Organized Sports Aren’t Everything

In: Kids, Motherhood
Young girl with Alpaca, color photo

Today I watched my little girl walk an alpaca. His name is Captain. Captain is her favorite. He’s my favorite too. I met his owner on Instagram of all places. She thought I was in college; I thought she was a middle-aged woman. Turns out, she is in high school, and I am a middle-aged woman. This random meeting led to a blessing. We call it “llama lessons.” We take llama lessons every other week. It’s an hour away on the cutest hobby farm. Our “teacher” is Flora, who boards her llamas at the alpaca farm. She wants to teach...

Keep Reading