Mrs. Morrissey

I was really bummed to find out that someone took a picture of my kid off my tumblr and posted it elsewhere in order to talk shit—on a baby. Ultimately, it’s my fault for posting photos of her in the first place, because I sort of knew that something like this was a possibility. Lesson learned.

The first time I set eyes on my daughter I thought, “She’s the most beautiful baby I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” The next day in the hospital I said to anyone who would listen, “I know I’m biased because I’m her mother, but I think I’m really just being honest when I say that there’s never ever been a cuter baby than this one.” I truly believed that, too. Now that I’m looking back at pictures of her from those first few days I’m like, “Oooh, um, hmmm…yeesh.” She was kinda jacked up.

There must be some kind of hormone or something released after birth—a survival mechanism left over from cave people days—that makes us like our babies immediately so that we don’t eat them.

I don’t know if those beer goggles ever wear off though, because even though I can now look at her newborn pictures objectively, presently I still feel like she’s the most beautiful baby to ever grace this earth. Maybe that’s just nature’s way to continue to stop me from eating her. (Although I do gnaw on those chubby cheeks every day.)