one of these people is not like the others. . .

As I spend my days beholding my beautiful brown-skinned children, I often forget my own paleness. Sure, ya see it and ya know it, but it is very easy to become unaware of just how lacking in pigment you really are. Until. Until you look at those pics of you and the kids. Until you are standing with one of them and looking in a mirror. Until you have your big parent hand wrapped around or entwined with their little child one. Until you look at other children and think they look damn pasty white and could use a little color.

It's like your eyes become accustomed to what they see, and you forget that not all share the same characteristic. Even yourself.

Which makes me wonder.

Is it happening in reverse? Are my children looking at their parents' pale faces and internalizing that shade as their own? Do they get surprised sometimes when they look in the mirror, too? Or, is it different for them because there is more brown in the house than white?

I think I got my first clue about this when I was standing at the bathroom sink with S, and she declared that her nose was becoming white like mommy's. I'm not sure what she was seeing to make her think that -- maybe the light was making her nose a little brighter and, therefore, look a little lighter, but to my eyes her nose was still the same color.

J, on the other hand, seems to have always been aware of his brownness. Maybe because he was the only one for so long. I can't wait until we go to Guatemala, and I'm the one who sticks out while he blends in. (Should be quite humorous, actually, since I speak more Spanish than he does.)

So this is one of our challenges. Letting color lines blur while still maintaining identity. (Easy as pie, right?) On PBS, they have a kids' psa about color, and they talk about how it is everything and it is nothing. I think that boils down this complex topic to the absolute bare bones truth.

Color is everything and it is nothing.