Playground Politics

School is back in session, the lines at the local, drive-thru caffeine hut are longer than ever and just in time for scarves, hats and other fashion accessories to hide behind, my social anxiety is back. I can always count on my best frenemy to knock on my brain door just as the back to school elated cartwheels, celebratory drinking and sheer joy rush wear off.  Hi, you old bastard. Back so soon?

Summer's insanity of having all of the children at home and our rough to non-existent scheduling dulls the white noise of this issue. I was simply too busy to really listen. Like a buzzing bee, easy to shoo away over the Popsicles, late bedtimes and sunny, backyard play. But, just like apples on the tree, it is there, growing and waiting for September when cooler weather makes it, and me, ripe for the picking.

I could conclude through thorough self diagnosis with entirely no expertise, that this is a product of being a child with a military upbringing. Move, new school, make new friends, pack, repeat. Up until our final move East, I continued to move every year of my adult life. Growing anxious and unsettled as books on shelves, patterns and I settled in. But, as parents do, the drive to provide a new and clean experience for our children insisted that we settle. In theory, this was an all consuming, background white-lit goal. In reality, I had no practice and, practice makes perfect.

We moved to my husband's hometown. A small town with all the makings of the ideal childhood. A pedestrian friendly downtown, a strong art community, an amazing parks and recreation program, a beautiful, well loved and often used library, great schools and a focus on living life in concert with Nature. Sign me up, right? So, I did. I signed right the hell up.

At the post office, the staff blow bubbles from behind the counter, Mr. Hand comes through the mail door to eat the envelopes out of my children's giggling hands and we've perfected the Teddy Bear turn around at the Children's Room story-time, but, after four full years in this idyllic setting, I have made very few friends. I don't mean, wave to each other in passing and make small talk friends. I mean, I had a shit day, I'm un-showered and hanging by a thread, please bring wine and pizza friends.

In a small town, friendships are developed over lifetimes. The amount of people who have known each other since birth is staggering to me, a gypsy. As a woman with only one lifelong friend, I'm unsure even how to forge this type of connection. Four years in, I am still the new kid. I struggle to make small talk at school pick-up. The words get jumbled from brain to mouth. Insecure in my ability to communicate like a boy fumbling with his first bra. It is often awkward, painful and unsuccessful.

If I meet a person I feel could be a good fit, I worry that I try to oversell. Do I come off as desperate? Did I mess up that play-date? Do I call? Do I wait for them to call? Are we dating? I forgot to get her a corsage!

Then there is the inevitable unfavorable interaction that will send me into a tailspin. Just like that, I am the 7th grader with the "wrong" shoes. I want to find a corner where I can regroup. Do I fake a trip to the bathroom? I repeat in my head: Stand tall. Walk away. Always smile.

Do the relationships I have feel forced, one sided or unsatisfying? Are you calling for a glass of wine or for childcare? I get anxious. I lose sight of what a friendship feels like.

Am I making enough of an effort? Is the anxiety viewed as "difficult to get to know"? Does my inability to form a coherent thought during conversation make me appear crazy? Disclaimer: I obviously am.

As all of this rages inside me, my desire to find a group and create fulfilling friendships is stronger than ever. Part of the successful child rearing experience is to remain connected. To remain open, engaged and to participate in community. I know that in order to be the best mother I can be, I need to find my peer group. I need to nourish new relationships with the care I tell my daughter to give her classmates every day. We are all building something new. Forging ahead in new waters. We are practicing and, practice makes perfect.

I imagine a day in the future surrounded by a handful of down to earth mamas that I click with, that get me and I get them; who maybe couldn't afford that last ballet class so we are pot-lucking on a Tuesday. Feeding our families, drinking wine and yelling at our kids to stop climbing up the slide, in unison, with no judgment. I'm looking for you.   I am ready to do the work to make our friendship authentic. Now, to find you. Meet me at the monkey bars after 3rd period. I'll be the one looking anxiously to the side and hiding behind an adorable baby.

I'm ready to try. Trying is practice and, practice makes perfect.

Summer's Last Stand

Who doesn't love summer with its endlessness and perpetual abyss of all of your offspring under one roof? I enjoy my weekly shower and cold cup of coffee because life is revitalizing when freezing cold  and roughly scheduled. I also enjoy our 2 1/2 month inch toward poverty as the locusts children eat us out of house and home. Of course you can have all 15 of the Hot Pockets. I was saving them for the apocalypse, but, frankly that seems closer now than ever so, enjoy!

After several months home, the gifts of summer's delight keep on giving, and giving, and giving and...come play with us Danny (elevator doors open in Overlook Hotel).




We're going back to school shopping...forever and ever and ever and ever...


As we drag our weary, bedraggled bodies toward the home stretch, I can think of only two things: How many more days until school starts? and, How did I manage to only get a tan on my feet?

This week has brought more of the same. The zest of the initial June kiddie pool filling has been replaced with August 13ths, "Can't you just go play NEAR the hose. I might turn it on later. I don't know, maybe if you're really thirsty." and our bounding out of the gates trips to the park have turned into, "Hey kids, look out the window! There's the park!" as we speed home from the grocery store. I've caved and they can smell my desperation. Desperation for Moms - the new scent by mothers, for mothers. A scent for the simple, complicated woman who just can't wait for effing school to start. *whisper* DESSSSPERATION.

As swift as sand through the hourglass, so are the the days of our lives...except for the days of summer.

Now what, you ask? Exactly. I am out of ideas. I am out of pipe cleaners, glue and stickers. And, to quote the great philosopher, Prince, "Party over, oops out of time." But, summer still had one sucker punch for me: Several days of torrential downpour. Game on, summer. One more chance to give it my "A game" or, to establish an A game since I've been riding the bench between C - and D, but, with the curve I'm hoping to pull it up to a solid B -.  Here's hoping the kids accept my extra credit sprinkling of dirt on their note to the fairies that I passed off as fairy dust! Fingers crossed!

Now, I give you our rainy day summer projects you will NEVER see on Pinterest:

Weather Hats - They are fashionable and informative. If they are wet, it's raining. If your forehead starts to smoke, the sun is shining. If the forecast calls for thunder and lightning, it's time to ask yourself, Are you a bettin' man? Well, are you?

You are seriously impressed right now. Who wouldn't be? Now taking orders for my shop featured on Regretsy.

Telephone - Ring, Ring? Hello? Hello? HELLOOOOO? Just like when the phone rings during the day in my house, I'm going to ignore these calls too. The kids love that they can scream at each other from different rooms and I love that they are screaming things like, "HI! I CAN'T WAIT TO GO BACK TO SCHOOL SO WE CAN GET AWAY FROM She'sLostIt McOutOfHerMind!" instead of screaming directly into each other's faces about who gets to eat the fruit snack they just found under the radiator vent.




"What is the legal age you can emancipate yourself from your parents?"



They sure don't make them like this anymore. Or, ever.

Sticks - This game is really neat. You go out in the rain and collect as many sticks as possible. Then, you put the sticks in a giant pile. Then, you pick up large debris, add it to the stick pile and, this is where it gets REALLY interesting, then rake smaller debris into the BIG pile until the yard is 100% absent of debris. After this, you apply for a burn permit through your local fire department and burn any debris that is not usable as mulch. Kids LOVE this game. You can thank me later.

If this doesn't make you want to immediately run out and play "sticks", well, then I guess FUN means something different to you.

I have to say, I think it's clear I nailed it. Speaking of nails....well, we can get to that game next summer. I don't want to give all of  my secrets away in one post.