Two incidents from the weekend:

1. Aitch and I are at the playground, while Minor is with his dad. Aitch makes friends with a little boy about his age. They run around the playground for awhile, then the boy’s mother brings out the snacks. I am standing across the playground from her and I can see her start to offer a cracker to Aitch, think better of it, then begin looking around for his mother to ask permission first. I start to walk over to her, trying to catch her eye and silently thanking her for being aware of a potential allergy situation. But she isn’t looking at me; she’s trying to catch the eye of an Asian woman sitting on the bench. “Is it okay? Ma’am? Is he yours?” I run up and plant myself in front of her. “He’s mine,” I say, and give her the OK for the snack.

2. Aitch and I are at the coffee shop; Minor and dad are, again, at home. We’re standing in a long line and the seating area is also very crowded. Aitch is bouncing back and forth but suddenly clutches me. “It’s okay to talk to me,” a woman is saying. “Your mommy’s right there.” I give a kind of blank look while I try to figure out what she’s talking about. “That’s your mommy, right?” she asks. “Or your babysitter. Are you the babysitter?” “I’m his mother,” I answer.

To paraphrase something I read in a blog comment, neither of these assumptions was an unreasonable one to make, but they were slightly uncomfortable for me to hear. Both incidents made me a little sad. I want to be everything for my boys, including a person who is publicly identifiable as their mother.

Then again, the rather remarkable thing is that I am that person for 99% of the public that we encounter. Most of the time, people accept that I am their mother without question. Adoptions are so common here that, upon meeting a mixed-race family, most of the people can automatically do the math, or at least refrain from questioning the family about the different possibilities.

So I suppose I should be happy that these kinds of assumptions are the exception, and not the rule. And it’s entirely possible that the woman who asked if I was Aitch’s babysitter was misled by my extremely youthful looks.