I was really fortunate growing up: I lived in the same small town from kindergarten to high school. I even stayed in the same school Kindergarten through Grade 8! Being the new kid was never something I had I to experience.
When I went away to college, I was the new kid, but so was everybody else. There was this unspoken need to find kinsmanship with others and to make friends with people -- and quickly. You didn't want to be the person that was never invited to go eat dinner with others, or be that girl who spent every Friday night alone in her dorm room.
So, I made friends. Lots of friends. Circles upon circles of friends. Friends, whom I doubt that 13 years later, would remember my name, and some whose names I wouldn't remember. I had friends from the dorm, friends from work and friends from class. I had a hard time walking around campus without finding someone to talk to, or at least say hi to.
Even moving to, literally, another country to attend grad school, I had a built in group of friends. There were only 40 of us and we were going to spend half of our waking hours together: how could we not be friends?I think that is why this transition has been so hard for me.
I have never, as an adult, had to make friends. And quite frankly, I'm not very good at it. I feel almost as if I have had to start dating again. I put myself out there, give out my phone number, smile a sweet, and what I hope is outgoing, smile and then wait. Sometimes my prey ( and yes, I really do feel at this point that the people I am hunting to be friends with are prey) will return a smile, and even a phone number. Sometimes not. When they do, there becomes a whole new logistical arrangement of trying to meet up. Do I offer my house? Do we try to meet on neutral ground? What is neutral?
I have been choosy with my prey as of late. I am trying to find people who are in the same stage of life that my husband and I find ourselves in. Married, with two young children, and not into hanging out at the bar every weekend. Scott and I have been together for almost 8 years now, and we have pretty much been homebodies the entire time.
B.C. (Before Children) we would occasionally meet someone for drinks, or spend an early morning weekend at the gym. But usually, you would find us at home, doing some type of make work project in the house, in the yard, you name it. After our son was born, we became even more boring. I mean, who would want to do something at a smoky bar when you could watch your child drool? (I think you really have to be a parent in order to grasp the truth in that sentence.) Leaving the house for us now is a momentous occassion. I get excited about outings to Target. Really.
So here I am, living in a new town, without any friends. Don't get me wrong, the people I work with are great and I have met so many interesting people through my work, but no real friends. There is nobody here that I could call at 9:30 and say "Hey, want to come by for some muffins? I'm just pulling them out of the oven." (** Note: Re-reading that sentence reminds me that a) I am not that domesticated, and b) I would have to REALLY be on my game to have muffins made by 9:30AM, but I digress.)
But, truth be told, that is the companionship that I am longing for: someone who I could call to spend time with, or chat with, and not have to make plans with 2 weeks in advance. I haven't met anyone that I can vent to when my husband is doing stupid stuff, or when my kid is driving me crazy can talk me down from the butt whipping that I am planning in my head. Hopefuly, in the near future, I will find someone, that special someone (here we go, back to the dating analogy) that I can give a part of myself to, and they will do the same in return. Because isn't that what friendship is really all about?
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Aching
I start work again on Monday.
Today was the first time that I dreaded it.
Today was the first time that I allowed myself to cry over leaving my baby in someone else's care.
Today was the first time that I realized how much shorter our snuggle time together is going to be.
No one else can calm her like I can.
No one else instinctively knows what she needs like I do.
This morning, I was cleaning the bottles that I bought yesterday and it just hit me. And I ached. I physically ached inside. I wanted to curl up on the kitchen floor and have a good cry. But I couldn't, because how do you explain to your two year old that you feel like you are breaking inside?
And how do you justify to him that it is okay for Mommy to drop him off to school because Mommy doesn't come apart in the parking lot any more like she did the first week when he was only 10 weeks old and soooo tiny and vulnerable. Because now he is this big boy, who gives you a quick peck on the cheek and goes off to play with his friends. And how do you explain that you are so proud of him, but that you know that it is going to be a blink of an eye and his sister is going to be doing the same thing. And that you're not ready - not ready for him to be growing so fast, and not ready to lose the baby that she is. You're just not ready.
I'm just not ready.
Today was the first time that I dreaded it.
Today was the first time that I allowed myself to cry over leaving my baby in someone else's care.
Today was the first time that I realized how much shorter our snuggle time together is going to be.
No one else can calm her like I can.
No one else instinctively knows what she needs like I do.
This morning, I was cleaning the bottles that I bought yesterday and it just hit me. And I ached. I physically ached inside. I wanted to curl up on the kitchen floor and have a good cry. But I couldn't, because how do you explain to your two year old that you feel like you are breaking inside?
And how do you justify to him that it is okay for Mommy to drop him off to school because Mommy doesn't come apart in the parking lot any more like she did the first week when he was only 10 weeks old and soooo tiny and vulnerable. Because now he is this big boy, who gives you a quick peck on the cheek and goes off to play with his friends. And how do you explain that you are so proud of him, but that you know that it is going to be a blink of an eye and his sister is going to be doing the same thing. And that you're not ready - not ready for him to be growing so fast, and not ready to lose the baby that she is. You're just not ready.
I'm just not ready.
Saturday, September 19, 2009
How things have changed...
I admit that I haven't had an all out birthday "party" since I turned 17. It is not that I don't enjoy celebrating my birthday, or that I ignore it. My birthday falls during a precarious time: the beginning of the school year. When I was in college it was pretty easy to talk a few friends into "Ringing in the New Year", but now that we are older and supposedly wiser, it is a little more difficult.
This year I had glimpse of birthdays future: and they most certainly did not revolve around me! First of all, my morning started of at 3A.M. (thank you Chloe) and then again at 6A.M. Although she had been on a good schedule with sleeping and napping, this fell by the wayside during our recent drive up to Canada and having an upset tummy for, oh, two weeks. We are slowly getting back on schedule but it has been a difficult transition for all four members of the household.
I am tired and a little cranky, but I figure it is nothing that some coffee won't fix. As I was preparing my precious cup of caffeine, Caleb wakes up and he is loaded for bear. I don't think that there is anything closer on this earth to perpetual motion than a toddler. I promise you, he hits the ground running. And shouting. The concept of *inside voice* is completely lost on this child. Caleb knew that today was going to be his first day of swimming lessons and he was "super excited".
We managed to get through the morning until 10A.M. without major problems, but after I got the two kids and all of their gear loaded into the SUV, I realized that the GPS (which I need to get to the YMCA) is not in the vehicle. Scott has it. In his vehicle. Half an hour away. I ended up calling his office and spoke to the lady in customer service (who thankfully knows that I am not completely Looney Tunes) and she was able to mapquest directions for me. *sigh*
We got to the pool super early because (a) we had never been there, and (b) I had to drop Chloe off at their child watch center and didn't know the protocol. When we arrived, I attempted to confirm that we were enrolled in the class and the lady at the desk said "Well, if you signed up online, you must be in there." Warning bells should have gone off at this point. After a quick tour of where the change rooms were by our instructor, we made our way up to child watch and filled out all the appropriate forms.... or so we thought. I have to say, being that it was my first time leaving Chloe with someone who was not family, I did really, really well. I didn't even well up!
Caleb and I head to the change room, get changed and head out to the pool. He sees the water and immediately begins "Iwannagointhepool!!! Iwannagointhepool!!" about 3957 times in a row. I try to explain to him that it isn't safe for us to get in the water until the teacher says it is okay. Then I try distracting him. I am almost at the point of putting duct tape on his mouth when other mommies and their lovely non-verbal 12 month old babies start filing in. Now I am trying to keep him quiet, still and amused. Not so easy.
The instructor comes over and begins to tell us about the class and what the objective will be for us as parents and our kiddos. Then she does role call. We're not on the list. Thankfully, the aquatics supervisor is there and agrees to let us join the class, we just have to register by next week.
Finally it is time to go in the water. Caleb puts his big toe in and starts "I wanna go see Chloe!!" I basically drug him into the pool (it was a bit cold) and forced him to participate in the hokey-pokey. Mean mom, I know. I tried all of my old swim-teacher distraction techniques, but he was having none of it. We left the pool with him in tears and my nerves frayed.
I rushed upstairs to get Chloe, only to find out, child watch is for members only. "Oops. Sorry. It won't happen again." Double ugh.
As I am trying to get Caleb registered for lessons he is doing everything in his power to get my attention. When he started whipping a toy around Chloe's face he got a firm tap on the head and told "We don't hit our sisters."
I later felt horrible about physically disciplining my child in public. I mean, its not like I pulled down his pants and paddled him, but I hated that I had lost control of my temper and resorted to that. When he woke up from his nap later that afternoon, I said "Caleb, do you think I'm a mean mommy?" He looked at me with those big brown eyes and said "No, you Tarrah."
Scott made a delicious dinner of pasta, salad and red velvet cake - and I had a large enough glass of wine that my nerves weren't frayed anymore.
Not quite like my bar hopping days, but I wouldn't trade this stage of my life for anything.
This year I had glimpse of birthdays future: and they most certainly did not revolve around me! First of all, my morning started of at 3A.M. (thank you Chloe) and then again at 6A.M. Although she had been on a good schedule with sleeping and napping, this fell by the wayside during our recent drive up to Canada and having an upset tummy for, oh, two weeks. We are slowly getting back on schedule but it has been a difficult transition for all four members of the household.
I am tired and a little cranky, but I figure it is nothing that some coffee won't fix. As I was preparing my precious cup of caffeine, Caleb wakes up and he is loaded for bear. I don't think that there is anything closer on this earth to perpetual motion than a toddler. I promise you, he hits the ground running. And shouting. The concept of *inside voice* is completely lost on this child. Caleb knew that today was going to be his first day of swimming lessons and he was "super excited".
We managed to get through the morning until 10A.M. without major problems, but after I got the two kids and all of their gear loaded into the SUV, I realized that the GPS (which I need to get to the YMCA) is not in the vehicle. Scott has it. In his vehicle. Half an hour away. I ended up calling his office and spoke to the lady in customer service (who thankfully knows that I am not completely Looney Tunes) and she was able to mapquest directions for me. *sigh*
We got to the pool super early because (a) we had never been there, and (b) I had to drop Chloe off at their child watch center and didn't know the protocol. When we arrived, I attempted to confirm that we were enrolled in the class and the lady at the desk said "Well, if you signed up online, you must be in there." Warning bells should have gone off at this point. After a quick tour of where the change rooms were by our instructor, we made our way up to child watch and filled out all the appropriate forms.... or so we thought. I have to say, being that it was my first time leaving Chloe with someone who was not family, I did really, really well. I didn't even well up!
Caleb and I head to the change room, get changed and head out to the pool. He sees the water and immediately begins "Iwannagointhepool!!! Iwannagointhepool!!" about 3957 times in a row. I try to explain to him that it isn't safe for us to get in the water until the teacher says it is okay. Then I try distracting him. I am almost at the point of putting duct tape on his mouth when other mommies and their lovely non-verbal 12 month old babies start filing in. Now I am trying to keep him quiet, still and amused. Not so easy.
The instructor comes over and begins to tell us about the class and what the objective will be for us as parents and our kiddos. Then she does role call. We're not on the list. Thankfully, the aquatics supervisor is there and agrees to let us join the class, we just have to register by next week.
Finally it is time to go in the water. Caleb puts his big toe in and starts "I wanna go see Chloe!!" I basically drug him into the pool (it was a bit cold) and forced him to participate in the hokey-pokey. Mean mom, I know. I tried all of my old swim-teacher distraction techniques, but he was having none of it. We left the pool with him in tears and my nerves frayed.
I rushed upstairs to get Chloe, only to find out, child watch is for members only. "Oops. Sorry. It won't happen again." Double ugh.
As I am trying to get Caleb registered for lessons he is doing everything in his power to get my attention. When he started whipping a toy around Chloe's face he got a firm tap on the head and told "We don't hit our sisters."
I later felt horrible about physically disciplining my child in public. I mean, its not like I pulled down his pants and paddled him, but I hated that I had lost control of my temper and resorted to that. When he woke up from his nap later that afternoon, I said "Caleb, do you think I'm a mean mommy?" He looked at me with those big brown eyes and said "No, you Tarrah."
Scott made a delicious dinner of pasta, salad and red velvet cake - and I had a large enough glass of wine that my nerves weren't frayed anymore.
Not quite like my bar hopping days, but I wouldn't trade this stage of my life for anything.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Blast from the Past
We recently returned from a road-trip (i.e. one-way ticket to insanity) to Toronto to see my dad, step-mom and grandma. In case you were curious, driving 8.5 hours in a car with a 2.5 year old and a three month old is not a recipe for fun.
Long story short, my grandma got to meet her first great-granddaughter. I would love to be optimistic and say that she will be around to see many more great-grands, but I am the oldest grandchild by 8 years and none of my cousins are planning on starting or adding to their family any time soon. Plus, Grandma is turning 85 this year and no longer travels.... Anyways, it was a really special moment for everyone there - and Grandma felt strong enough to hold Chloe which I think warmed both of their hearts.
At my dad's house, Mary Ann told me that there was a section of boxes that I needed to go through at some point. I bravely trekked down to the dungeon and found boxes of old memorabilia that would make even the bravest of organizers on Clean House flinch. I had two Rubbermaid tubs filled with letters and cards. TWO. Some of the letters were notes from high school, others were from people that I had met during my travels and no longer kept in touch with (or remembered, I am ashamed to say...) but the flower among the thorns was the collection of letters that my mom and I wrote each other while I was in Switzerland. I haven't been brave enough to read them, and I think I will wait for a snowy winter evening and steaming cup of hot chocolate. I am curious to see how my 17 year old perspective on the world has changed in the past 15 years, and eager to "hear" my mom's voice again.
Aside from the Swiss letters (which I plan to keep for Chloe and Caleb), I am having a difficult time parting with the other notes - which is silly - no one else really cares about my 10th grade crush, or the random post-card I got from a guy in Austria. I feel emotionally attached them and even though I know that these "things" aren't the people in my life and won't take the place of my memories - I don't know how to get rid of them. Any suggestions?
Long story short, my grandma got to meet her first great-granddaughter. I would love to be optimistic and say that she will be around to see many more great-grands, but I am the oldest grandchild by 8 years and none of my cousins are planning on starting or adding to their family any time soon. Plus, Grandma is turning 85 this year and no longer travels.... Anyways, it was a really special moment for everyone there - and Grandma felt strong enough to hold Chloe which I think warmed both of their hearts.
At my dad's house, Mary Ann told me that there was a section of boxes that I needed to go through at some point. I bravely trekked down to the dungeon and found boxes of old memorabilia that would make even the bravest of organizers on Clean House flinch. I had two Rubbermaid tubs filled with letters and cards. TWO. Some of the letters were notes from high school, others were from people that I had met during my travels and no longer kept in touch with (or remembered, I am ashamed to say...) but the flower among the thorns was the collection of letters that my mom and I wrote each other while I was in Switzerland. I haven't been brave enough to read them, and I think I will wait for a snowy winter evening and steaming cup of hot chocolate. I am curious to see how my 17 year old perspective on the world has changed in the past 15 years, and eager to "hear" my mom's voice again.
Aside from the Swiss letters (which I plan to keep for Chloe and Caleb), I am having a difficult time parting with the other notes - which is silly - no one else really cares about my 10th grade crush, or the random post-card I got from a guy in Austria. I feel emotionally attached them and even though I know that these "things" aren't the people in my life and won't take the place of my memories - I don't know how to get rid of them. Any suggestions?
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