I’d always had suspicions that my children were the result of egg donations my husband had secretly implanted in my uterus (it’s better not to think about how this would be logistically possible). They both have blue eyes and my daughter has red hair. My husband’s features are all around dark and I’m a strong brown-eyed dark blonde. Because I cognitively understand the concept of recessive genes, I was willing to ignore my misgivings. Then recently I acknowledged two things that most definitively make it impossible that my children are genetically derived from me:
1. My son does not like macaroni and cheese.
2. NEITHER OF THEM LIKE TO NAP.
My husband has a lot of explaining to do…
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Meredith blogs at The Mom of the Year, where she dedicatedly earns her title one epic parenting fail at a time, offering quick, relatable laughs for fellow parents and all their empathizers. She has been part of several best-selling anthologies, featured on prominent sites such as Huffington Post, In the Powder Room and BlogHer, and loves her role as the Executive VP/Operations Manager of The BlogU Conference. When she's not breaking up fights over Legos and juice boxes, she remains fully committed to sharing a less serious look at the world of parenting.
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