Nosy People

Sunday's these days consist of Thomas's football games which we have to be at the field at 2:30pm. The game will start anywhere from 3:00 - 4:00, depending on the game before ours. These games can last for a while (2 hours for today's game...) so it normally takes up the rest of our evening.


My goal for this morning was to go to Kroger for my "haul" with my second attempt at couponing before everyone else in the house had to get up and moving in preparation for the day. When I came out of my room, Thomas was already up. This was great for me because I knew I needed to separate my items into two separate transactions so having someone else tag along to push a cart would be beneficial. By 9:15am, we had left the house.


Thomas and I got to Kroger and managed to get most everything on my lists and went to check out. By that time, Thomas was getting antsy and whenever this happens, I hear my name at least once every two minutes for some kind of question or something that he just HAD to tell me. This went on almost the whole time I was checking out. Towards the end of the second transaction, this following excerpt came from the conversation with the cashier.


Cashier: Is he yours??
Me: Yea, he is. Why?
Cashier: (looking completely perplexed) So why is he calling you "Samantha"???


Now. It took every ounce of restraint to NOT respond with something along the lines of "It's none of your damn business, bitch." If it were around the time when Aunt Flo visits, all restraint would have been gone and that's very likely what would have came out of my mouth. Instead, I decided to give her a very shortened version of the last few years.

Me: Well, he started out as my stepson, but I've adopted him since then.


I thought this would suffice. I had hoped it would suffice. Seeing as it really wasn't any of her business anyway, this should have been more than enough information. It wasn't.


Cashier: Is he the only one you've adopted?


-_- Really?? SERIOUSLY?? Why would you keep going?! I must have had some kind of look on my face that wasn't too pleasant because Thomas decided to pipe up then.


Thomas: Nope. She adopted me and my brother (looks at me) about three weeks ago?
Me: Close. About a month ago.
Cashier: So you've adopted two??


Did you really not catch that from the conversation so far??


Thomas: Yep. She adopted me and my brother and she had Trevor.
Cashier: Who's Trevor?


!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Thomas: Our little brother. He just turned one yesterday.
Cashier: So you have three kids?
Me: Yes, I have three kids.
Cashier: You must like those kids a lot to adopt them.
Me: I love them all very much.
Cashier: They must be good kids.
Me: They're great kids.


I think the lady that was bagging the groceries got the hint at that point and interjected.


Bagger: Would you like some help pushing these carts out?
Me: Sure! Thanks!
Cashier: Have a nice day!
Me: You too...


Granted... we had three full carts when we left so yes, I really did need someone else to push one of them out. But the offer came at the perfect time.


People that know me know that I'm pretty much an open book. I don't mind telling people things. But... just because something that happens around you is a bit out of the ordinary (like Thomas calling me Samantha when random people see us in a mother/son situation) doesn't mean that it's ok to keep asking.


What if I was just a foster parent and he had been bounced around from home to home? Don't you think asking a million questions about it blatantly in front of him would bring up a bunch of bad memories? What if I was a relative taking care of him because his parents had passed? Do you want a kid to have a complete meltdown because you keep interrogating??


Yes, to see a kid calling their (you assume) parent by their given name instead of Mom/Dad, it's different. But there's a ton of reasons why that could be happening. Go ahead and pick up on things like that, but discuss them with yourself IN YOUR HEAD. It is none of your business why people do things the way they do. They have their reasons, like we do. I have not once told them they have to call me Mom. It would be nice and it would make situations like this not happen and it would postpone confusion from Trevor when he gets a little older, but I'm not going to force it.


Point being... don't be nosey. Don't be rude. Mind your own business.