Go Ahead and Stare, It's What People Do

Not so sure why we tell our children that it is not polite to stare.

So much of this world is begging to be stared at. Go to the zoo and stare at the animals, or to the beach and stare at the sunset. Pretty faces plastered on magazines, TV, movies; we're encouraged to stare at them.

But stare at a person, in person? So rude.

I have no shame when it comes to staring at people. Beautiful people, I love to stare at them. Men and women. If I find someone striking, I'm gonna get my eyeful.

One of Graham's surgeons was positively stunning. Over six feet tall, long and lean, nerdy horn rimmed glasses, slick pitch black hair, perfect Chinese features. He looked like a porcelain doll. I don't say things like this, but he had the face of a freaking angel.

So when he was around, I stared. I got caught often. I didn't care. I kept on staring. He was that beautiful, it would have been a shame to miss one second of that gorgeous creature.

I'm an equal opportunity starer. If you are strikingly ugly, I'm gonna check you out too. Maybe I'll find something pleasant in your fugly mug. Maybe I'll tell my friends that I'm sure I saw the butt-ugliest person on the planet; aren't I lucky?

It may be because I've always been so shameless in my staring, that I've never minded Graham being stared at.

Come on, before I had Graham, if I'd seen a woman with a floppy fat baby on her hip, a tube sticking out of his shirt that was hooked up to some funky contraption slung over her shoulder, I'd have stared my face off.

And stare people did, and do. All the time. And it's never bothered me. Human nature is curious. I know this. I love this.

Sometimes the person staring would apologize, and ask what was wrong with him. I'd assure them, no apology necessary, and do my best to explain him.

What mommy doesn't like bragging about her baby? Well, I had more bragging rights than most mommies. And one hell of a story to tell.

I welcomed the stares, and the questions.

Graham's first pair of ear molds were bright green and I loved them. I loved the stares they garnered. I loved getting to tell his ever evolving story.

For some reason, for his second pair of ear molds, we decided on clear. His ear doctor was thrilled;

"Wow, you can't even tell he's wearing hearing aids!"

I hated them. Because they were invisible, and made this very important part of Graham invisible. They only lasted a couple months and we were back to bright colors.

And kids stare at them. All the time. And I love when kids ask about them. Because that's what they should do.

I love when parents get it and encourage their kids to ask.

I've wanted to smack some parents for their ignorance.

Don't scold your child for noticing something different about another child. Praise the child for recognizing that difference exists and celebrate together diversity, ability, difference.

Beach season is around the corner. Graham will be running around without his shirt, in all his scarred up glory.

I want him to catch a kid staring at his scars and tell that kid that he was sicker than any baby ever. That he's had more surgeries than anyone he knows.

I want him to make up a story about saving his sister from a pack of angry wolves.

I want him to welcome the stares and be as proud of those scars as I am.