I was out with my son in the municipality clinic for his vaccination shots when suddenly, I was asked: “Is he yours?”
I try not to let it bother me (as this is NOT the first time I’ve been asked when I’m out and about with either of my kids without my husband) so I just replied. “Yes”.
At first glance, my children seem to not have any of my features but a close friend told me, if you look at them close and long enough, you’ll realize that yes, they are my children.
But strangers never look close or long enough. They do not exist to do that. They only shuttle their eyes from the baby to me, 5 seconds each and easily conclude that I’m the nanny, a temporary carer or anything but the mom.
In a country where maid culture is popular and kids tag along with maids while the real parents are shopping (awful, really), it’s difficult to judge whether the child belongs to the carer or not. But honestly, that should be none of anyone’s business. No one should stare and dare ask, “is he yours?”
I am from the Philippines and my husband is from Japan. Yes, my children look Japanese. I know and accept that I lost the DNA pool battle. You don’t need to shove it in my face. And in case your parents didn’t tell you, it’s rude to do that.