Speaking of genius, writer Elizabeth Gilbert gave a TEDTalk on a different way to look at creativity and genius. She believes that “instead of of the rare person ‘being’ a genius, all of us have a genius.”

She talks about how in ancient Greece and Rome, people didn’t believe that creativity came from humans. They thought it was a devine spirit that came to human beings. The Romans called the spirit a genius. It’s definitely an inspiring and engaging talk here. When you find 19 minutes in your day this week or next, definitely watch Gilbert’s video. It’s worth it.

And as always, speak up. Let’s hear what you think. Leave a comment below and we’ll chop it up.

Is that your baby? Has to be one of the rudest, most unsettling things you can be asked as a mother. You already know about my dealings with folks coming at me with that mess. So here’s another mother’s take on how to deal. 

Blogger Alicia Willett, a new mom and good friend of my little sister’s, was not all the way prepared for the you-can’t-be-the-baby-mama drama. She decided to gather up a few tools for the next possible confrontation. The best part is, she still keeps it cute. 

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I always knew that our baby was going to be light-skinned — very  light-skinned.  My husband (whom I affectionately refer to as “Dudeguy”) nicknamed him “the Beigelet” well before we knew that he was a “he.”  What I didn’t know was that complete strangers, possibly well meaning or ill versed in social graces, would often question me about whether or not my son was actually mine.

“That’s a handsome boy you have there.”

“Thank you!”

“Is he yours?”

At first I thought that she asked because I was traveling with a group that included other women.  Then I looked around and realized that we were the only two adults in this particular section of the store.

“Yes.  Yes he is mine.”

I wanted to add that I picked him up from the Babies R Us, but there wasn’t one nearby.  I hate lost opportunities for making a snide remark.

When someone sees me, there is no mistaking that I am black.  I’m American.  I have brown skin.  I wear my hair in its natural, tightly coiled state.  Some people pick up on the subtle facial features that bespeak the Chinese portion of my ancestry, but few openly ask me if I’m mixed.  Maybe they figure it’s rude (yes), or prying (uh-huh), or none of their business (PRETTY MUCH), so they leave their questions parked in their heads.  Unfortunately, this nicety  doesn’t seem to apply when I’m carrying my son around.

“He’s so cute!  Is he yours?”

“This is YOUR baby?”

“Oh! I thought that would have been nice of you to babysit so early!”

That last gem was courtesy of a woman who “met” my son while he was sitting on my mother-in-law’s lap.  Mom told the woman that I was his mother.  She turned to me with an incredulous look and said, “No!”  I confirmed that I was indeed his mother.  And that line about babysitting so early was indeed her reply.

The awkwardness in the room afterward was palpable.  I’m glad we left a minute later.

My husband is white; Anglo-Germanic to be precise.  With genetics being what they are, the darkest the kid could have possibly been is “Beyoncé in wintertime.”  But that wasn’t meant to be.  Visible melanin was completely lost on him.  He doesn’t tan, he turns red.  His hair is straight and light brown.  I jokingly refer to him as “my white child.”  Even still, he has my face; the deep brown eyes, the broad nose bridge, the full lips, and the eyebrows that refuse to be tamed are all there.  In my eyes and those of the people who know me, he is very clearly of me.  And it is precisely this that makes me wonder why people can’t see past his complexion when we are together.

“Surely you can’t be that boy’s mother.  You’re black and he’s white!  You must be the nanny!”

They don’t always say it that way, but that’s how I always hear it, and it always stings.  It stings because I expect more of people in 2012 where mixed couples and their little mixed babies are no longer considered anomalies.  It also stings because I have to swallow my impulse to retort with something crass.  This impulse is strong — very, very strong.

In my growing frustration, I took to Twitter to vent.  I lucked out when a friend of mine sent a link to the New York Times article that featured my lovely hostess here and her thoughts on the “you’re the nanny, right?” complex that people seem to have.  After reading it, I found the perfect weapon to arm myself with the next time my son and I are around people we don’t know: two shirts from Swirl Syndicate.  One says “I’m swirled” with a cute little chocolate & vanilla ice cream cone.  The other simply reads, “she’s my mommy, not my nanny.”

When we go out into the world, my boy will be wearing one of those shirts.  When someone asks me if he is my son, I’m going to point them to the shirt.  I’m counting any resulting awkwardness as a win for the mothers of mixed kids everywhere.

We are not nannies. We are mommies, and there should be no question about that.

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You can (try to!) keep up with creative, cool mama Alicia on her blogs Inny Vinny and innyvinnytumblr.com.

We’re profiling one mother from every country on the planet. (Current tally: 8 down, 184 countries to go!)

Meet Irene Nam. She’s a 34-year-old photographer and writer born and raised in Paris, France, where she currently lives with her husband and twin sons, Sean and Will, 10. She speaks three languages: French, Korean — fluently — and English. “I learned English in junior and high school,” she says, “so I speak it with a French accent.” Can it get more international (or cuter!) than that?

Irene’s images have appeared in various print and online publications, and on exhibit at the Fotofest Gallery in Houston and the Impossible Project Space in New York City. You may view some of her work on her site Irene Nam Photography.

A social change enthusiast, Irene works with non-profit organizations to help improve the quality of life, education and the future of children around the world.

Here’s her story …

Photo by Irene Nam

Life before baby …
I had just graduated from film school, was an intern at a production company and was adjusting myself to married life.

My ideas about motherhood …
I didn’t really think about it, but I did have many preconceived ideas and notions about motherhood. I grew up in a dysfunctional family and my parents divorced when I was 12, but for some reason I thought that being a mother was something that I would be really, really good at. I know … what was I thinking?

And while I was pregnant, I stuck with that idea. I would get tons of advice from other mothers, but mostly on what car seat or stroller to purchase rather than how to prepare myself for the biggest change of my life. I guess before you have your first child it is impossible to anticipate things like sleep deprivation or the transformation of body and mind that accompanies becoming a mother.

Then came the babies …
When I found out we were having twins, I giggled. Just laughed compulsively. I couldn’t wrap my mind around the news. It was just surreal. And then the doctor started to explain to me what carrying twins implies: that it was a high-risk pregnancy and that losing one of the twins could be a possibility. That was my first scared thought.

Everything changed the day my sons were born. The first few months were really, really intense. But my husband and I learned, we made mistakes, we tried harder, every day. (And next month our sons will be 10!)

I think the biggest change was the profound sense of meaning that I got imbued with the moment they appeared, and understanding that my whole world would now revolve around them.

The most challenging part of motherhood …
Preadolescence! So far, the most challenging part of motherhood has been giving my sons opportunities to make their own decisions all while fully loving and accepting them as they are, no matter what choices they make for themselves.

On balancing work and life …
When my sons were 2, I started a part-time job as an assistant to the editor-in-chief for a fashion magazine. My boss was very understanding and office hours were flexible, but work was stressful and my husband was often traveling for business. So after a little more than a year, I decided to quit. I started a personal blog a few months after that and was offered a job opportunity as a contributing writer for ParentDish (formerly Blogging Baby). That was seven years ago, and I have been working from home ever since.

It’s not always easy, and some days are definitely harder than others. I know the guilt. I know the frustration. But I’m very grateful to be able to do work that I love and be there for my sons when they come home from school.

The best part about raising a child in France …
The health care system and the education that my sons have access to, as well as the variety of arts and nationalities that they are regularly exposed to.

France provides a good environment for raising children in terms of  childcare, too. In France, mothers can take up to a three-year parental leave from their job, but most don’t and instead go back to work after a couple of months. Given the opportunity and more financial benefits, I think a lot of mothers would choose to stay home longer .

As a young stay-at-home mom, one of the things that kept me sane during the first few years was the PMI (Protection Maternelle et Infantile), a health center for new mothers and children under 6. Every city has one. And it wasn’t just the fact that I could see a pediatrician, gynecologist and even a therapist for free, it was about having a safe place where I could ask all the questions I wanted and express my frustration, anxiety and sense of inadequacy without being afraid to be judged or criticized. Being able to spend a few hours there every week has been a tremendous help.

The parts I wished were different …

• Only a few mothers make the decision to quit their job and stay home full-time to take care of their child. And it’s not an easy decision. Stay-at-home mothers are still stereotyped here as women with no ambition, little or no education, and/or married to a man with a large income. And stay-at-home fathers are a rarity.
• The most challenging part is being Korean (my parents were first-generation immigrants while my husband was born and raised in South Korea) and facing the many expectations and preconceived ideas that both the French society and the Korean community have.
• I wish sports and the arts were more valued at school and children given more opportunities to do what they love and are most passionate about. French kids go to school on Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday from 8.30am to 4.30pm. I believe it’s the world’s longest school day. They have Wednesday off for activities such as music, dance and sport. This is a very exhausting, unbalanced schedule for children as young as 4.
• I also wish there were more programs for children to do some volunteer work at school, in their communities, etc.

Best piece of advice I ever heard …
You can have it all, just not at the same time.

If we could jump into a DeLorean and race back in time …
I would tell myself: “You’re not perfect, life is not perfect, you’ll screw up at times and you know what? It’s okay! Also, enjoy now. Because what they say is true, they do grow up too fast.”

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If you’d like to nominate a first-time mother living outside of the United States to be featured here, please send an e-mail to: get[dot]msmack [at] gmail [dot] com.

“I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal.’… I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character. I have a dream today.”
~ Martin Luther King, Jr., I Have A Dream, 1963