Kindness Comes In All Shapes And Apartment Sizes

, , , , , , , , , | Hopeless | March 12, 2018

On the last weekend before school started in 2017, my step-dad at the time kicked us out of the house, completely out of the blue. Even though it was illegal, he gave us only 24 hours to get our stuff.

So many people through that event have helped restore my faith in humanity.

First, about half an hour after it happened, I was boxing stuff up while making various phone calls to friends and family. All said that they were currently busy but would drop whatever they were doing to come help. My best friend, who I’ve known since I was five, offered to take the three-hour drive from Washington to come and help.

The first couple nights, our grandparents offered to let us stay with them, and even though it was a small two-bedroom house we all fit snugly. We stayed with them for about a month into the school year until we got an apartment that accepted dogs.

When we were moving into the apartment, which was on the third floor, it was only five of us with the fifth being my 64-year-old grandpa. Right as we pulled up, we met one of our neighbors, and she said that she had a cart that we could use to get stuff to the stairs, which was super helpful, but then she offered to help us it get up the stairs as well! This kind lady has since interacted with us and is one of our nicest neighbors, but before she knew why we were moving or how much it could’ve meant to us, she went above and beyond the neighborly thing to do.

Thank you to everyone who helped us during a difficult time.

Gong Hey Fat Chance!

, , , , , | Related | March 8, 2018

(It’s the day after the Lunar New Year celebrations. I’m in the car with my mum and stepdad. We are all Caucasian.)

Me: “Happy Lunar New Year!”

Step-Dad: “What? You’re not Chinese, are you?”

Me: “Nah, I’m Chinese.”

Mum: “One in every three people is Chinese, you know, so it has to be [My Name].”

You Have A Lot Of Bottle To Do That

, , , , , , , , | Related | January 25, 2018

My mom and stepdad are tidying up in the basement, and I go downstairs to see if they need a hand. My stepdad is going through his wine rack and hands me two bottles of wine. He tells me to go put them on the kitchen counter. My mom says they should go in the sink because they are dusty.

They then start bickering — like only a married couple can — about where the bottles should go, so I walk upstairs and put one bottle on the counter and one in the sink.

My mom calls me a smart-a**, but no one can say that I didn’t follow instructions!

Let Them Carry On While You Carry

, , , , , | Related | November 17, 2017

(My stepdad is notoriously sexist and has put on a big show about coming outside and actually helping us for once. He and my fiancé are carrying bags of cement into the garage by themselves while my mom and I watch, because we have already cleaned the garage.)

Stepdad: *in a derogatory tone* “What would you women do if we weren’t here to carry this for you?”

(My mom snaps back while I lean close to whisper in my fiancé’s ear.)

Me: “I’m the one who put them in the car.”

Fiancé: *bursts out laughing*

Getting A Leg Up On Genetics

, , , , , | Related | September 27, 2017

(I have four children, from two different relationships. Two older boys are from a previous relationship, who we will call [Dad #1], and the younger girl and boy are from my husband, [Dad #2]. Though all children live with my husband and me, the father of my first two children is still very much involved with the family. This is probably why there is some confusion for the youngest child in the family when we are talking about shared physical traits.)

Me: “You guys all have my cheeks.”

Older Son: “Yeah, but I got my height from [Dad #1].”

Daughter: “And I got my eyes from [Dad #2].”

Dad #2: “Oh, yeah. Unfortunately, both [Daughter and Youngest Son] got my eye sight.”

Youngest Son: “Yeah, but my legs are [Dad #1]’s.”

(Everyone stops and looks at my youngest son.)

Me: “Uh, what?”

Youngest Son: “Yeah, I have [Dad #1]’s legs.”

Dad #2: “Buddy, how can that be, when I’m your dad?”

Youngest Son: “I’m not sure, but I have his legs. Do you think there was some stuff leftover and it passed on to me?”

(The whole family thinks this is hilarious and tries to explain to him why he doesn’t share any genes with [Dad #1]. A couple days later, both [Dad #2] and the youngest son are sitting on the couch in shorts.)

Dad #2: “Son, look at my legs and look at your legs. Whose legs do you have?”

Youngest Son: *looks down and then up* “I hate to say it, Dad, but they’re [Dad #1]’s legs.”

(Now that he’s older, he understands why this isn’t right.)

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