Neither of my children resembles me. At all. It bothers me sometimes and I wonder why because I think they're absolutely beautiful and wouldn't change a thing. And then it bothers me that it bothers me.
I carried the children for nine months, puked my guts out, gained an assload of weight, spent hours and hours and hours daydreaming what the babies would look like and then pushed them from my body. Dad? What did he do? Had a little Sexy Time with me and then held my hand while I pushed? Yet there it is. The undeniable fact that both children look just like their father. In fact, they look so much like their dad and nothing like me that if he were the woman in the relationship I’d wonder if I even contributed DNA and would be giving the mailman’s eye color serious consideration next time he came around delivering packages.Am I a bad mom for having these feelings? Have you ever felt this way? It's what I'm babbling about today.
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