Grandma guilt

Too-cool Bubby in an outfit NOT chosen by Grandma.I went shopping with my mom and my sister yesterday, to one of those warehouse clubs with 10-pound packages of peanut M&Ms sold alongside tires and cappuccino makers. Of course, they sell clothing, too, and we ended up at the racks for little boys.

"Oooh, look at this!" Mom said ... of a little pants outfit that included a (hot!) lined vest that would cause Bubby to suffer heatstroke if he wore it in their 100-plus-degree weather -- or even their way-too-warm winter weather. She also pointed out plaid cotton onesie short outfits (aack, Megan!) and a few more non-Bubby-looking garments. I politely smiled at each of her choices, never gushing over any or throwing them in the cart.

Then my sister -- who's childless and never plans to have kids or grandkids -- got in on the action. "What size does he wear?" she asked enthusiastically. Her choices included "Nemo" and "Bob the Builder" outfits.

"Yeah, those are cute," I said, moving on to others.

I'm sure my lack of enthusiasm made them wonder at my grandparenting abilities.

"Don't you send him packages of stuff all the time?" my sister asked.

Well, no, I told her. We see each other (or did) on a pretty regular basis, so I just give him stuff when I see him.

But I don't give Bubby clothes. And maybe that makes me a bad grandma.

When Bubby was first born, I bought little sleepers and T-shirts and onesies and such. But as he's gotten older, it's become quite clear that Megan is as picky about his clothes as she always was -- and still is -- about hers. Shopping for clothes with her has been hell from about the time she was 4 years old. And shopping with her for clothes for Bubby has turned out to be just the same.

Megan lives near an outlet mall, so most of Bubby's clothes come from Gap or Gymboree. I tend to be more of a JCPenney and Target shopper. But even when I'm looking at clothes at the upscale retailers with her, the things I pick out make her snarl her nose and say, "Ahhh ... No!"

So just as I did when we shopped together for her as a teen (which we rarely did as it was not a good experience for either of us), I stand back and keep my mouth shut, pretending to be interested in the racks of socks and such, while she chooses Bubby's clothes. She only asks my opinion after she's made up her mind what she wants. And, of course, my "opinion" is a glowing review of whatever it is she's chosen.

But all that's a long story to explain to my mom and sister as we're going through the racks at the warehouse store. And I may seem harsh and un-grandma-like to them when I don't gush over the little outfits I want to buy Bubby, loading the cart up with this cute one and that cute one. So I just kind of brushed it off and we moved on to the five-ton canisters of Country Time Lemonade.

I'm thinking this morning, though, that maybe I'll head back to the store this afternoon and check out some jammies for Bubby. I can't go wrong with jammies, right? If Megan hates them and thinks they're really not cool enough for Bubby to wear in public, that's okay; jammies aren't meant to be worn in public. And as long as they're comfy and they're chosen with love by Grandma, what else matters?


This post linked to Grandparent's Say It Saturday.