I apologize in advance for the racial undertones, overtones, highlights, and lowlights, but this is the story that must be told.
Exhibit A: Baby Daniel
A few weeks after Daniel was born, I walked into 1048 to show everyone pictures of my sweet little boy. He had hair the color of a new penny and eyes the color of a back-to-school pair of Levi’s. He was beautiful.
When the pictures got to Dave P( bling, blong, blaow), the lead singer and harmonica player of my favorite band, Blues Old Stand, he said, “Damn, Tange, that’s one white ass baby. You should call him Blackie McWhiteBoy.”
I laughed. Hard. P.Moe was absolutely right. Daniel was the whitest black baby I had ever seen. He was the perfect mix of DaddyFixIt and me. He was as white as his dad, and had blue eyes. If it hadn’t been for his perfectly pouty little mouth, I would go to my grave believing some white woman down the hall and I had been victims of a soap opera caliber baby swap.
When I got home from my adventure in Cloverdale (It wasn’t a full Happy Hour. I couldn’t drink, because I was pregnant, yet again.) I told the husband what Dave P said. I fully expected him to hit the roof. We had had a couple of full on brushes with some pretty snarky comments about our race mixing. While I thought Blackie McWhiteBoy was the funniest thing I ever heard, I wasn’t so sure about Old Daddy. To my amazement he laughed. Hard. He picked up his son and said, “Well, I guess you are Blackie McWhiteBoy.”
Exhibit B: Baby Adam
Nine months later Adam was born. His eyes were even bluer. His hair was even lighter. Rene and I started calling him Whitey McBrotha. Adam looked nothing like me. At. ALL. I still think he may have been switched.
The boys are just getting to the age where they recognize that we all look a little different. Daniel is noticing it more. The other day, he pronounces Old Daddy to be “Pink, Strawberry Ice Cream.” Daniel said he and Adam were “Kinda Yellow Ice Cream,” and “Mama, you’re my favorite. You’re Chocolate!” Rene and I had a good old laugh off of that. I’m just glad I’m still my little boy’s favorite!
As the McBrothas grow up and move out into a world that can be very harsh to people of all flavors, I hope that they always remember that the love Daddy and I feel for each other and feel for them will never have a color. We are a Neapolitan McFamily.