Am I selling my love for clothing? As an opening sentence, that sounds pretty dirty and terrible, but it's not as bad as you think. This all goes back to the earlier blogging days when we were told to discuss our families, so this part is kind of complex, try to stay with me, okay?
My dad's stepmother was more of a grandmother to me than my actual paternal grandmother. When I was a kid I LOVED spending time with my Nanny and Poppop. My grandfather was one of the greatest people EVER. If you met him, I'm sure you would have agreed in a heartbeat. I used to stay with them for the weekend sometimes, and the trips would end with a visit to Toys 'R Us where I would usually get a Barbie or some other sort of doll that my parents had decided I didn't need. But isn't this what all grandparents do? That's not why I looked forward to spending time with them, though. I would've been just as happy to be with them without the toy store trip as I was with it. In fact, once I was out of the toy store phase in middle/high school I did just spend time with them, no gifts included, and still had a wonderful time. Not to say that there weren't the occasional shopping trips.
At the end of my junior year of high school my Poppop passed away due to cancer, which was pretty heartbreaking for the entire family. After that, visits with my Nanny would include a meal, and sometimes shopping. It was usually for one special item. Within one year she was set up with a rich old man from the city, and suddenly the shopping trips were getting ritzier and ritzier. By my sophomore year of college (that's less than three years for anybody keeping track), my Nanny was married. Her husband's wife had died just months prior to them meeting (or so the family rumors are). She now lives the life of a Manhattan socialite. Going to shows multiple times a week, having a driver, living in one of the ritziest buildings on Park Ave (no guest room), private jet, and of course the homes in Boca (still not invited) and Purchase (the country). It's not very grandchild friendly. Well... his grandchildren she sees much more, and apparently dotes on them so as to buy their love. His kids are not very warm to her, so might as well win over the grandchildren, right?
In the meantime, those of us across the Hudson in my family only see my Nanny for brief visits. These visits include an expensive meal (the entree in my lunch today cost more than my most expensive dinners out with my friends in Amherst for the whole meal) and usually a shopping trip to an expensive store. My personal favorite is Bergdorf's. My friends roll their eyes when I come home from a visit with designer jeans, head to toe new outfits (to be fair I'm never dressed "appropriately" for going out to dinner with her husband, so she needs to re-clothe me), and expensive shoes. Honestly, I would gladly trade in every single amazing thing I've been given for even another HOUR in my old life, but I figure I might as well take advantage of what I'm being given. My brother gets a twenty passed on from me, and a promise to be seen soon. And every now and then a Broadway show.
I'm not a bitter person, I'm more... disappointed. So anyways, that leads me back to the weirdness I feel from today. I came home for the weekend to celebrate the 22nd, and my grandmother insisted I come in for a few hours. I spent a half an hour being shown the real Picasso's, real Chagall (are you sure I know how to spell it?), and various other artists that make me drool to be up close to a real painting. What do you think her husband would say if I asked him to throw a couple hundred thousand my mom's way so she could pay off her house? Hmmm... So then we went for the delicious, but expensive lunch, where I saw many facelifted ladies, and listened to friends of my grandmother's stop and compare when they got home from Boca. Then we went for a walk down 3rd Avenue where my Nanny had the managers at Victoria's Secret bring out a folding chair for her husband to sit on while I quickly picked out some loungewear for my trip to France. We then walked to Scoop, a store I love but cannot afford, where her husband insisted he buy me a pair of white terry shorts. They were gorgeous, and the offer was one of his kindest moments to me, but I felt very off after the purchase. Hours later, I'm starting to feel dirty. I gave affection for Tory Burch. It's not that I don't like him, I just... I don't dislike him... My grandmother was looking for contentment, she already had a great love in her life. I don't feel any anger towards her husband, I just feel like she kind of sold her soul to live this new life. It's just that he doesn't radiate warmth, and that's kind of hard for me to deal with. I guess that's why I feel so weird that the first time he really seemed extremely warm was through buying me these shorts.
My dad's stepmother was more of a grandmother to me than my actual paternal grandmother. When I was a kid I LOVED spending time with my Nanny and Poppop. My grandfather was one of the greatest people EVER. If you met him, I'm sure you would have agreed in a heartbeat. I used to stay with them for the weekend sometimes, and the trips would end with a visit to Toys 'R Us where I would usually get a Barbie or some other sort of doll that my parents had decided I didn't need. But isn't this what all grandparents do? That's not why I looked forward to spending time with them, though. I would've been just as happy to be with them without the toy store trip as I was with it. In fact, once I was out of the toy store phase in middle/high school I did just spend time with them, no gifts included, and still had a wonderful time. Not to say that there weren't the occasional shopping trips.
At the end of my junior year of high school my Poppop passed away due to cancer, which was pretty heartbreaking for the entire family. After that, visits with my Nanny would include a meal, and sometimes shopping. It was usually for one special item. Within one year she was set up with a rich old man from the city, and suddenly the shopping trips were getting ritzier and ritzier. By my sophomore year of college (that's less than three years for anybody keeping track), my Nanny was married. Her husband's wife had died just months prior to them meeting (or so the family rumors are). She now lives the life of a Manhattan socialite. Going to shows multiple times a week, having a driver, living in one of the ritziest buildings on Park Ave (no guest room), private jet, and of course the homes in Boca (still not invited) and Purchase (the country). It's not very grandchild friendly. Well... his grandchildren she sees much more, and apparently dotes on them so as to buy their love. His kids are not very warm to her, so might as well win over the grandchildren, right?
In the meantime, those of us across the Hudson in my family only see my Nanny for brief visits. These visits include an expensive meal (the entree in my lunch today cost more than my most expensive dinners out with my friends in Amherst for the whole meal) and usually a shopping trip to an expensive store. My personal favorite is Bergdorf's. My friends roll their eyes when I come home from a visit with designer jeans, head to toe new outfits (to be fair I'm never dressed "appropriately" for going out to dinner with her husband, so she needs to re-clothe me), and expensive shoes. Honestly, I would gladly trade in every single amazing thing I've been given for even another HOUR in my old life, but I figure I might as well take advantage of what I'm being given. My brother gets a twenty passed on from me, and a promise to be seen soon. And every now and then a Broadway show.
I'm not a bitter person, I'm more... disappointed. So anyways, that leads me back to the weirdness I feel from today. I came home for the weekend to celebrate the 22nd, and my grandmother insisted I come in for a few hours. I spent a half an hour being shown the real Picasso's, real Chagall (are you sure I know how to spell it?), and various other artists that make me drool to be up close to a real painting. What do you think her husband would say if I asked him to throw a couple hundred thousand my mom's way so she could pay off her house? Hmmm... So then we went for the delicious, but expensive lunch, where I saw many facelifted ladies, and listened to friends of my grandmother's stop and compare when they got home from Boca. Then we went for a walk down 3rd Avenue where my Nanny had the managers at Victoria's Secret bring out a folding chair for her husband to sit on while I quickly picked out some loungewear for my trip to France. We then walked to Scoop, a store I love but cannot afford, where her husband insisted he buy me a pair of white terry shorts. They were gorgeous, and the offer was one of his kindest moments to me, but I felt very off after the purchase. Hours later, I'm starting to feel dirty. I gave affection for Tory Burch. It's not that I don't like him, I just... I don't dislike him... My grandmother was looking for contentment, she already had a great love in her life. I don't feel any anger towards her husband, I just feel like she kind of sold her soul to live this new life. It's just that he doesn't radiate warmth, and that's kind of hard for me to deal with. I guess that's why I feel so weird that the first time he really seemed extremely warm was through buying me these shorts.
Hmmm, this may be the first blog that I edit later on. I can't decide. Until I get back to school, done with classes, and done with hw for the day to log back on again, I'll leave you with a picture of my radiant face this warm spring afternoon :)
Ryne and I preparing our Mother's Day Gift
1 comment:
I decided a long time ago that my interpretation of the meaning of life is to just be happy. Thats it, pretty simple, if that means im happy with money or not we shall see. But thats what i think it comes down to in the end. Hopefully your Nanny is happy, 40 dollar entree's and all. If theres maybe one truth, its that you can be happy when you make others happy. Maybe, for a rich man, buying Nannas grandkids some nice shorts is all a rich man knows how to offer. I guess its the thought that counts, he seemed happy doing it. So let it be i suppose. Hopefully your happy too getting them, you seem happy in that pic...
(..and whoa thats a lot of times saying happy)
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