Shoplifting is a Crime.

I love a good deal.  I love something free. I love when the cashier misses something on the belt and I don't get charged for it. 

**Let me say that I do not intentionally try for this and if I do notice while in the line, I do correct the situation.  If I don't notice until I'm at home, which is at least 20 minutes away, well forget it!

While in Belleville yesterday, Jacob was trying on baseball caps.  He found one he liked and just wore it through the store as I didn't have a cart.

I didn't realize he was still wearing said hat until we were in the parking lot on the way to the car.  I also realized I hadn't paid for it.  I did say out loud to Jacob that I didn't pay for his hat. He looked at me in disbelief.

Shit!

We're about 2 hours from home.  We're tired.  We put our bags in the car, went back inside and paid for the hat.

I love a good deal.  I love something for free.  I have a moral responsibility as a person, as a parent to teach my child right from wrong.  The thought did cross my mind to just go, to go home but, I looked at Jacob's sweet, innocent face and envisioned the police chasing us down I-94 and arresting me for shoplifting while Jacob is bawling for his daddy.  Hating his heroes for carting his momma off to jail like the naughty-naughty we often talk about.

Jacob probably won't understand for a long time what happened in those moments or my whole thought process, I truly hope I taught him in those moments to be responsible, to do the right thing. Not to steal.

Skype with Swami - The Cemetery Edition

I've been working on my family tree for a few weeks now.  Searching census records, obituaries, birth and death certificates, passenger manifests (my mother's maternal grandmother came over on the Carpathia) and any other documentation I can get my eyes on.  This search led me (us - I sucked my sister into this adventure) to this little cemetary in this teeny town Southwest of Detroit called Carleton.  My great grandfather was born here, he married his wife here, they had their children here, they moved away from here but, came back here for their eternal rest.  They must have fallen in love with this little tiny town.  It is tiny.

When I talked to my great grandma about paying a visit to her, she was very excited.  I asked her how I would find her and she said, "Don't worry honey, there is a big marker".

I drove 2 & 1/2 hours (my sister drove 3) based on a website listing my family as being buried here - no photos - and my conversation with a woman who has been dead for over 50 years!

I saw this first big stone on my initial drive through but, I didn't want to stop to find it without my sister - and it looked too new.  So I drove through, didn't find any others, found out my sister was at another cemetary and decided to get out and explore.  This wasn't what I was looking for.  I asked my grandma to help me find her, "Turn around, turn around". I did.  

Looking over my right shoulder just up over the hill and I saw it.  "The big marker".  A friend asked about my flash - if that white dot was a reflection from my flash from the camera.  I didn't have my flash on.  I do believe that white dot would be my very happy great grandma Edna.

As I got closer, I saw this first. My great-great grandmother.

And on the other side of the big marker, there they were.  Just like she said!  My great grandparents. She was so excited we were there.  She just kept chattering though nothing she wanted heard by my ears.  We dug the dirt off the stone, cleaned it up as much as we could (with a snowbrush). We also found a great aunt, and I believe a great uncle.

What a great find.  I'm so excited to have made it there...now if we can just find my great great grandpa on this side AND my mother's maternal grandmother - this ancestry mystery will be solved.  I've asked them for help but, they're not talking.  Stay tuned!