Okay. So I was at Target today enjoying my shopping spree when grandma decided to ruin it for me. I was browsing through all the sales items in the baby department and found a couple of sweaters for my little man. Like any other shopper, I took them off the rack and placed them on my cart along with all the other items I planned on purchasing. I turned my back from my shopping cart for a few minutes while I look for more awesome deals when all of the sudden one of the sweaters I picked out went missing. “Where did it go?’ is what I asked myself. I’ve decided to trace my steps to see if perhaps I had dropped it on the floor or something but nothing. It just mysteriously disappeared. By now I’m pissed and totally clueless so I’ve decided to do a little investigation. I’m following everyone around me, getting awfully close to their cart to see if they’re the culprit, still nothing, until I saw grandma walking away from the baby department to the electronics section. I went with my hunch and followed her. I think I might have scared her a little bit because she went to go to one of the workers there and pretend to ask a question. I took that opportunity to look in her cart and guess what? She had the sweater in there. I so badly wanted to yank it out and tell her to be ashamed of herself but I couldn’t find the balls to do it. So I just kept following her around and hoping she would grow a conscience and give me back my stuff but I was sadly disappointed. I’m actually still in shocked. I mean, come on! I know you’re old but do you have to play the grandma card? What kind of example are you teaching your grandkids? That it’s okay to steal other people’s stuff. I know that technically the item was not mine yet because I have not paid for it but geez. It was in my cart! Grandmas are not grandfathered to the shopping etiquette rules, which is, ONCE IT’S IN YOUR CART, IT’S YOURS TO PAY FOR! The thing that upset me most is that it was the only one left in my son’s size. My husband said I should have grabbed it out of her cart since I can outrun and take her down anyway. LOL. Next time I’ll just be more careful as not to leave my cart unattended. Shopping lesson learned. Thanks grandma!
Lola’s Done Lost It October 11, 2009
First let me explain. Lola means grandma in Tagalog. Tagalog is the official language of the Philippines. The Philippines is a country in the Asian continent, where my mother is from. That makes me one half Filipino. In an attempt to make everything easier for our son, we decided that he would call his Filipino grandmother (which is my mom) Lola and his Caucasian grandmother (my hubby’s mom), grandma. Got it? Now to my story…
I have never doubted that my mother is my real mother (although I look nothing like her) until I got pregnant. I say this because I would ask her pregnancy related questions and she would never really answer them for me. And if and when she does, they would always be someone else’s pregnancy stories. I know that it’s been quite a long time for her since she was “allegedly” pregnant with me but come on! I asked if she craved for anything in particular when she was preggers and she would respond with whatever was on the table was what she ate. I asked if she threw up or disliked any food, she would say she never threw up. I asked if I was born on schedule and she would respond with they didn’t really calculate things like that in the Philippines and so babies just came out whenever they were ready. I asked if I was an active fetus and I get no response. How did you come up with my name? Did you get any stretch marks? How much weight did you gain? Did you breast-feed? If so, for how long? When did I get my first tooth? My first word? Aaahhh!. Fine. Forget about it. So when it came time for the birth of our son I became even more suspicious that I may possibly be adopted after all. Through all the different stages and many milestones my son has gone through, my mom have never said to me that I was exactly like him or the complete opposite when I was his age. The only thing she mentioned was that I was a good baby, I never cried (really?), and I was so happy and easily amused that when I peed my pants, I would play with it. That’s all I know about my infant to toddler years. The thing that really gets me is that she can recall things that my little cousin used to do when she was his age and often compare them to my son, but not me! Don’t get me wrong. I’m not saying she was a bad mother because that is far from the truth. She was and is an awesome mom. I had a wonderful childhood and have never felt unloved, not even for a second. But what I’m saying is this; I can’t ever see myself forgetting the little amusing things my son does now or will do later. I would love to be able to tell my son and his kids one day on how their daddy was when he was little. But then again, in my mom’s defense, maybe I was just a horrible little creature that she decided to erase her memory from my birth til preschool in order to keep her sanity. That’s possible right?
