sister act

Last weekend, the lady clearing our table after we'd had a sumptuous lunch thought I was Cerise's older sister! I still don't think she was convinced that I was actually the mother. Edwin was nowhere in sight at the time of incident to which I was slightly relieved because it really isn't as much fun explaining he isn't my father as explaining that Cerise is in fact my child.

The last time this happened was back in 2001 if my memory serves me right. Now in my 30's it still happens. I think it is my weekend get-up. I am too dolled up for work during the week so that on weekends, I tend to go for the I-dont-care-what-I-look-like-as-long-as-I'm-most-comfortable look. That means hair up, T-shirt, jeans, flat shoes, no make-up. Also, 6 year old Cerise is becoming more and more of a young lady. With no more props on hand - i.e. the pram, the milk bottles... conveying the message that we are a mother and daughter team has never been more difficult.

I am told I should take such comments as a compliment. But I can't. Not when I feel I am not being taken seriously or not when I could tell people are thinking in their head "She must have fallen pregnant when she was 8!"

Perhaps when I'm in my 40's or 50's, such comments would be pleasing to my ears. Until then, let it be known that I am turning 32 this year and I had Cerise when I was 25!