It’s a Filipina thing

A few months before Mark and I got married a friend of my family’s was having marriage problems. Mark and I sat in the living room as we watched this friend haul 5 large bags filled with all of her stuff into my brother’s bedroom.

She was leaving her husband.

Mark was so concerned. He liked her and her husband. What was so wrong? Was this real? Why wasn’t anyone else troubled by this?!?!

My mom and I looked at each other knowingly. There wasn’t anything to worry about. She would be back home before the weekend was over.

This is just what women from the Philippines do. We get mad. Really mad. Stomp out. Cry. Yell. We aren’t big on throwing things, but we aren’t against it either.

My mom “moved out” often. And by “moved out” I mean she went to the mall until she wasn’t mad anymore. Pretty much every Filipina has a story about how they did something crazy while mad at her husband. And moving out 5 garbage bags filled with clothes would be our friends’ story.

“Mark,” my mom asked as we watched our friend go back and forth to the car, “you know you are marrying this kind of crazy. She has our blood. She will be crazy. Are you ready?”

“Marie isn’t going to be like this,” Mark insisted, “we’ll talk things out. We won’t have these kind of fights… will we?”

I assured him that I was going to stop the crazy here. I would not carry on the crazy. Promise. We even wrote it into our vows. Just kidding.

My mom didn’t really buy it though. No one was strong enough to resist the power of the crazy.

So when I called her on Saturday afternoon and asked if she could come to the house because I was locked out, I could hear it in her voice.

“You’re what?” she asked, but I could hear what she was really thinking…

“That punk locked you out of the house, didn’t he? ”

And while I knew that she would be on my side no matter what, I sensed that she had been waiting on this call. The call where Marie had gotten so sassy, so stubborn, so rude that Mark would have no choice other than locking me out of our home. I could tell she wasn’t exactly surprised that I had been put into exile.

“I hate to burst your bubble, Mom, but I walked out of the house without any keys. I can’t get into the house, and I can’t drive anywhere. Could you come get me? I’ll be on the porch.”

Where is Mark?” She wasn’t buying my “walked out without keys” story.

“He is out rock climbing.” I was going to have to pull out the big guns to get her to snap out of it and come get me, “Mom, seriously, come get me. I think I heard a dog bark.” Because she is more afraid of me being outside with potential stray dogs than I am.

“Ok! Ok! I’m coming!”

I had to wait at her house until Mark got done taming the wild rocks of Chattanooga. Unfortunately, Mark took a long time to return any of my calls (which I understood since he was climbing rocks), which allowed my mom to tease me…

“Are you sure he is going to come?”

Real funny, Mom, real funny.

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One thought on “It’s a Filipina thing

  1. […] out of the house an average of once a month since we’ve been married.  It’s in my genes.  Each time I do this I feel like a real jerk after about 15 minutes.  And then I start to freak […]

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