absolutely breathtaking

I'm going to open by saying that all babies are not cute. Some aren't even slightly attractive. A few are hardly passable as human. Of course I'm not speaking of children with deformities or syndromes or whatever. I'm talking about normal healthy children who have the unfortunate combination of genes that will eventually turn them into adults that look like Anne Ramsey, Steve Buscemi, or Martha Plimpton. Or that hideous hag of a woman from Brooklyn who lives in the yellow house a few doors down from me. She says she was in television up there, and I'm guessing as a stand-in for Sigmund the Seamonster.

Do mothers of ugly babies actually admit that their baby is disgusting? Would I be able to recognize if I had a child that should be shrouded from society? Dave and I were the first to say that Jake looked a bit revolting in the 3-D sonogram, and we crossed our fingers that he would at least be smart. When Jake was born, I was okay with the fact that he would have looked just as much at home in the PECO Primate Reserve. I still loved him. I know that Jake has some off days, and I was kind of hideous throughout my whole childhood, but people still loved me. It doesn't mean that I don't love Jake when he has acne or a big head or squinty eyes or a slack mouth. It just means that I don't look him directly in the face as often or take his picture those days. He gets plenty of belly kisses and foot tickles and hugs, and I close my eyes if I must kiss his ucky face.

And it isn't just babies. We all have our unseemly days. When I have an ugly day, I avoid mirrors and hide behind my big sunglasses if I have to go out in public. When you have an ugly day I tell you that I like your shoes. I still love you, you still love me, and once we get over our cold/take a shower/figure out that shade of lipstick isn't for everyone all will be right in the world again. When your kid has a less than adorable day (as if. Your kid is the best. I love that kid.) I still think it is the best thing in the world when I get that smile and that hug and that squeal and that picture drawn for me.

Because the apple doesn't fall very far from the proverbial tree, you would think that if a mother was aware of her own (or her husband's own) level of grossness, she could see it in her child, accept it, and move on. But some people don't. They look at that thing and say "hi baby! You are the most beautiful baby in the world! Everybody loves you and thinks you are pretty!". Do they really believe that? Or are they just saying that to be nice? When I look at an ugly baby I say "hi baby! You look like you are having so much fun with that cookie! Eat that cookie up! You be a good baby! Take good care of your mommy!".

Since having Jake I was surprised that more than a few mothers- some ugly some pretty some somewhere in between- have told me how ugly their babies were. Some prefaced that with an enthusiastic "your baby is so beautiful". Others just said it, making me wonder if they think that Jake is ugly too. Which is okay. He isn't theirs so they can think whatever they want. And if it makes them feel better to think that their baby is cuter than mine, that is okay too. I'm really just here to help you help yourself feel good. Seriously, I get paid to do it a few hours a day. When I was pregnant, people told me that their babies were red or bald or short or fat, but they turned out okay. I guess that other parents want to prepare you for the worst, and let you know that life still goes on. Telling me about your appalling baby is one way to welcome me to parenthood. Telling me that I will be able to sleep and fit my old jeans again one day is another. Whatever.

I was at a party the other day/week/month/year (I'm omitting details since some of you were there and I don't want to offend) and was in the company of one of the ugliest children I have ever seen in my entire life. The poor child was so blindingly revolting that the mother actually introduced her spawn as "and this is little (insert name here). There is nothing wrong with my little one, (s)he just looks like my husband's side of the family. And me too a little before I put on my make-up. Ha Ha. You can treat (name) just like you would any other child, (s)he just looks different".

Oh. Good. Lord. The child comes with a disclaimer. Imagine if Rob Schneider and Kathy Bates and Nicole Kidman's nose in The Hours and that thing from the movie Powder and Matthew Broderick's eye in Election and Alfred E. Neuman's ears and this dog were shoved in a blender, pureed, and baked in an oven at 425 degrees for 35-40 minutes in a pan the shape of a human child. Pretty bad, right? But there was no doubt that this child was loved, and the rest of the kids on the floor didn't seem to think there was anything at all to be concerned about. My kid even grabbed those ears and planted a wet kiss right on that putty-esque nose.

I should probably take a lesson from the kiddies and just get over the whole thing. Honestly, who finds the time and energy to write about unsightly babies anyway?