My grandmother is not the nicest
I’m referring to my paternal grandmother. I love my Nana, but I don’t really like my Nana. Of my three grandmothers she’s my least favorite, even though she’s the one I see the most often. My Grammy (my mom’s stepmom) is my favorite. My Grandma (my maternal grandmother) I just don’t know that well, but she’s nice enough. Of my grandfathers, my Papa (paternal grandfather, deceased) was my favorite, and my Grandpa (my mom’s stepdad, deceased) was my least favorite, with my other Papa (maternal grandfather) is in the middle.
Getting back to my Nana, it’s not that she’s ever been particularly mean to me; all around she’s pretty nice to me. She’s also the grandmother I agree with most on politics, so it also has nothing to do with that. It’s more so, there have just been little things here and there that she’s said and done that would indicate that overall she’s not the nicest person. Namely how she’s treated my mom over the years, but also her attitude towards wait staff and some of my cousins, and other little things.
Among my cousins, I’m clearly her favorite grandchild. Probably in large part that I’m her first grandchild. My brother, while not the second grandchild, is in second place on that front. My dad’s older sister’s kids are kinda in the middle, she’s probably spent more time with them but doesn’t always treat them the most warmly, overall though she’s okay with them. My dad’s younger sister’s kids, well they clearly got under her skin. Both the oldest and the triplets all had behavioral issues stemming from mental health troubles, and she really just had no patience or sympathy for them, and the kids definitely recognized it. All but one of my cousins and my brother are all adults now, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one she calls semi-regularly to check in on.
My Nana can be pretty rude to wait staff when dining out. She’s just very terse with them. Whenever we go to a restaurant with her, she always orders salmon. If a restaurant doesn’t have salmon, we don’t go to that restaurant. When she orders, she always says the same thing: “I want my salmon moist.” While not every time, there is often a second part to that: “I want my salmon moist, and if it is not moist, I will send it back.” We’ve told her multiple times to just say “medium rare” or something of the likes; even sometimes a waiter/waitress will be like “oh so, not too well done?” or “so like, medium, medium rare?” My Nana’s response to that? A stern “I want it moist.” every single time. Yeah, I don’t understand it.
This part is mainly based on what my mom has told me. My mom and dad were pretty young when they started dating, 19 and 20 I believe. While she’s probably long since gotten over it, my Nana was pretty unhappy my dad was getting serious with a non-Jew. She was very cold to my mom in the early days. One time, during the holidays, my mom got my Nana a Chanukah gift. She didn’t have any Chanukah wrapping paper (why would she), but she wrapped it in some paper with little colorful birds on it. A nondenominational wrapping paper, if you will. When she presented it to her, all my Nana had to say was to scold her, “this isn’t Chanukah paper!”, tapping on the gift aggressively before walking off, without so much as a thank you. My mom cried about it later that night.
Another instance of her being unnecessarily cruel to my mom: So my mom makes really good latkes (like REALLY freaking good). She made some for the family. My aunts were gushing about how good they were, and my Nana chimed in something like “yeah, funny how the shiksa makes the good latkes.” If you’re not familiar, “shiksa” is a derogatory term for a female goy. Even my aunt (dad’s younger sister) was like “Mom! You shouldn’t say that!”
One more thing, and I’m not sure how to categorize this or articulate how it fits a broader pattern, but this next thing is just like… why?
Me, my parents and brother, my aunt (dad’s older sister), uncle and cousins, and my Nana and Papa were all on an Alaskan cruise together. It happened to be my 13th birthday that day. My Nana wanted us to celebrate by having dinner at the fanciest restaurant on the ship, and she said she was gonna have them make me a cake. “What kind of cake do you want?” she asked me. Of course, without having to think much, my response was “vanilla!” Call me vanilla, but I love vanilla cake. My Nana’s answer? “No, vanilla’s not a flavor. Pick a flavor, like chocolate.” I don’t know what other options she thought there were besides chocolate and vanilla. I kept pressing the issue, but she kept refusing on the basis that “vanilla is not a flavor.” Even my dad stepped in, saying that, actually, vanilla is a flavor, explained to her that it comes from vanilla beans, and said that he too prefers vanilla over chocolate cake. I didn’t even really like chocolate cake, and I can’t say it crossed my mind to say lemon (not that they would have even had lemon cake, this was a cruise ship) but my Nana kept insisting that vanilla’s not a flavor therefore we can’t order a vanilla cake, so I stormed off. Sure, maybe that was petty of me, but dammit I was literally 13 and it was my birthday, and in my mind the most important birthday (becoming a teen) since I turned 10 (double digits). And not only could I not spend it at the buffet (where all the good food was) like I wanted and instead had to eat at the same boring fancy restaurant with limited options that we had been eating dinner at every other night of that 8 day cruise (we didn’t have dinner at the buffet even once while on that cruise due to my Nana’s insistence), I couldn’t even have a damn vanilla cake for my birthday. So we went to dinner, and she ordered a chocolate cake (of course). I refused to have any at first, and by the time I was considering trying it, everyone had eaten it all anyway.
Okay this ended up being a lot longer than I meant it to, I think I still have some unresolved butthurt over that last part cause damn that really sent me back.
But yeah all this stuff probably seems pretty minor, but it all just kinda adds up to this pattern of her being a not nice person. And I didn’t even mention the time when she fat shamed my little cousin for being a chubby baby (she was literally like, TWO).
Anyways… yep, that’s what I got to say about that.
Getting back to my Nana, it’s not that she’s ever been particularly mean to me; all around she’s pretty nice to me. She’s also the grandmother I agree with most on politics, so it also has nothing to do with that. It’s more so, there have just been little things here and there that she’s said and done that would indicate that overall she’s not the nicest person. Namely how she’s treated my mom over the years, but also her attitude towards wait staff and some of my cousins, and other little things.
Among my cousins, I’m clearly her favorite grandchild. Probably in large part that I’m her first grandchild. My brother, while not the second grandchild, is in second place on that front. My dad’s older sister’s kids are kinda in the middle, she’s probably spent more time with them but doesn’t always treat them the most warmly, overall though she’s okay with them. My dad’s younger sister’s kids, well they clearly got under her skin. Both the oldest and the triplets all had behavioral issues stemming from mental health troubles, and she really just had no patience or sympathy for them, and the kids definitely recognized it. All but one of my cousins and my brother are all adults now, and I’m pretty sure I’m the only one she calls semi-regularly to check in on.
My Nana can be pretty rude to wait staff when dining out. She’s just very terse with them. Whenever we go to a restaurant with her, she always orders salmon. If a restaurant doesn’t have salmon, we don’t go to that restaurant. When she orders, she always says the same thing: “I want my salmon moist.” While not every time, there is often a second part to that: “I want my salmon moist, and if it is not moist, I will send it back.” We’ve told her multiple times to just say “medium rare” or something of the likes; even sometimes a waiter/waitress will be like “oh so, not too well done?” or “so like, medium, medium rare?” My Nana’s response to that? A stern “I want it moist.” every single time. Yeah, I don’t understand it.
This part is mainly based on what my mom has told me. My mom and dad were pretty young when they started dating, 19 and 20 I believe. While she’s probably long since gotten over it, my Nana was pretty unhappy my dad was getting serious with a non-Jew. She was very cold to my mom in the early days. One time, during the holidays, my mom got my Nana a Chanukah gift. She didn’t have any Chanukah wrapping paper (why would she), but she wrapped it in some paper with little colorful birds on it. A nondenominational wrapping paper, if you will. When she presented it to her, all my Nana had to say was to scold her, “this isn’t Chanukah paper!”, tapping on the gift aggressively before walking off, without so much as a thank you. My mom cried about it later that night.
Another instance of her being unnecessarily cruel to my mom: So my mom makes really good latkes (like REALLY freaking good). She made some for the family. My aunts were gushing about how good they were, and my Nana chimed in something like “yeah, funny how the shiksa makes the good latkes.” If you’re not familiar, “shiksa” is a derogatory term for a female goy. Even my aunt (dad’s younger sister) was like “Mom! You shouldn’t say that!”
One more thing, and I’m not sure how to categorize this or articulate how it fits a broader pattern, but this next thing is just like… why?
Me, my parents and brother, my aunt (dad’s older sister), uncle and cousins, and my Nana and Papa were all on an Alaskan cruise together. It happened to be my 13th birthday that day. My Nana wanted us to celebrate by having dinner at the fanciest restaurant on the ship, and she said she was gonna have them make me a cake. “What kind of cake do you want?” she asked me. Of course, without having to think much, my response was “vanilla!” Call me vanilla, but I love vanilla cake. My Nana’s answer? “No, vanilla’s not a flavor. Pick a flavor, like chocolate.” I don’t know what other options she thought there were besides chocolate and vanilla. I kept pressing the issue, but she kept refusing on the basis that “vanilla is not a flavor.” Even my dad stepped in, saying that, actually, vanilla is a flavor, explained to her that it comes from vanilla beans, and said that he too prefers vanilla over chocolate cake. I didn’t even really like chocolate cake, and I can’t say it crossed my mind to say lemon (not that they would have even had lemon cake, this was a cruise ship) but my Nana kept insisting that vanilla’s not a flavor therefore we can’t order a vanilla cake, so I stormed off. Sure, maybe that was petty of me, but dammit I was literally 13 and it was my birthday, and in my mind the most important birthday (becoming a teen) since I turned 10 (double digits). And not only could I not spend it at the buffet (where all the good food was) like I wanted and instead had to eat at the same boring fancy restaurant with limited options that we had been eating dinner at every other night of that 8 day cruise (we didn’t have dinner at the buffet even once while on that cruise due to my Nana’s insistence), I couldn’t even have a damn vanilla cake for my birthday. So we went to dinner, and she ordered a chocolate cake (of course). I refused to have any at first, and by the time I was considering trying it, everyone had eaten it all anyway.
Okay this ended up being a lot longer than I meant it to, I think I still have some unresolved butthurt over that last part cause damn that really sent me back.
But yeah all this stuff probably seems pretty minor, but it all just kinda adds up to this pattern of her being a not nice person. And I didn’t even mention the time when she fat shamed my little cousin for being a chubby baby (she was literally like, TWO).
Anyways… yep, that’s what I got to say about that.
