11-12-13

Today's comment was from a employee at Marshall's.  Referring to my 20 month old son:

"I remember when he'd sleep the whole time you were shopping...those days are long gone, huh?  He's still such a sweet baby, though!  Is your daughter in school?"

I would swear I have never seen this woman before.

Later at Meijer, I had the baby with me, and my husband had taken our 5 year old to the bathroom.  An employee asked if she could help me find something, and I jokingly said, "My husband."  She said, "They're in the Barbie aisle."

11-11-13

There are times I walk through the grocery store and I wonder why no one is staring or commenting.  Not because I'm famous or gorgeous or horribly disfigured; because I'm alone.  When I'm alone, I'm anonymous.  Just another middle-aged (sob), suburban, middle-class white lady.  There are lots of us, and I'll bet you couldn't pick me out of a line up.  When I'm with my children, who were adopted transracially shortly after their respective births, it's a different scenario.  People know us.  Remember us.  Talk to us.

It's not like we're in a small town, either.  We're in the suburbs of a major metropolitan area.  Multi-racial, multi-cultural, multi-ethnic.  You'd think we'd blend more.  We don't.  These are the usually funny, sometimes odd, occasionally shitty comments we've heard.