Lessons in Friendship

It’s 3 o’clock on a Friday afternoon and I’m standing in front of the elementary school, waiting for my first-grader.  Any moment, the brick building’s front doors will swing open and my girl will appear, smiling as she catches my eye from the top of the concrete steps, then bounding towards me, taking two steps at a time.

It’s one of my all-time favorite things about parenting.  The just-out-of-school, slam-right-into-Mom greeting.  It started in Pre-K, and God knows it won’t last….but for now, it’s the highlight of my day.

Any minute now.   She’ll be dismissed and I’ll be relieved of the extreme discomfort that precedes this joyous occasion.  I won’t need to keep my face buried in my iPhone or carry a one-sided conversation with my ten-month-old.  I won’t pull my hat down and my collar up, pretending to block the wind but really just hoping for a disguise.  I won’t be transported in time to my own school yard, hoping to avoid the other kids, their petty games and their evil laughter.  For a moment, I will be the chosen playmate – the most popular girl in school.

She’ll run right for me, even as her little brother tries to intercept with an excited embrace.  She focuses on me, only me, and within seconds, she catapults herself into my soft, down parka and I bend down to kiss the top of her fleece-covered head.

But just as fast as she’s found me, she’s dropped her backpack at my feet and is off again, in search of a game of tag or a climb up one of several small maples in the school yard.  And just like that, the euphoria I felt just moments ago is gone, and I’m back to feeling like a social misfit.

* * * * * * *

My daughter’s teacher sends home a weekly newsletter.  In the past few weeks, she has mentioned that social interactions can be quite hard for kids this age.  She talked of classmates isolating others by singling out friends, and of the extreme sensitivity of those left out or ignored.  How funny it is that my daughter is learning the same hard lessons of friendship that I did, and still am, so many years later?

Until recently, I was a stay-at-home-mom.  I was at that school at least twice a day, dropping off, picking up and chatting up the teachers, volunteers and parents at every visit.  I was also the town reporter, which meant I was the eyes and ears of every organization and event in town.  Between my work and family responsibilities, I knew everyone, had an invitation to every party, meeting, girls’ night or family outing.  Like Norm on the eighties classic sitcom Cheers, I walked into a room and everybody knew my name.

But all those connections, all that volunteering and all of those parties soon took their toll.  When my third child was born last March, I took a long hard look at my schedule, and realized I needed a break from everything.  It wasn’t fair to jump up and cover every last ribbon-cutting or political meeting at the expense of this tiny person for whom I had waited so long, nor was it necessary for me to take on volunteer responsibilities out of sheer passion for the work.  I needed to step back, enjoy my new baby, and focus on my family.

It’s amazing the difference I see in my community.  Is it because I don’t have a pen and notebook in my hand, publicizing their events or fundraisers or putting their cute kids’ pictures in the paper?  Or is it because I’m no longer around, twice a day, every day, hosting playdates and helping out with the book fair?   The 11 am pick-up, the time of day I used to stand in the cold, wind, snow and ice with girlfriends chatting about anything and everything, is now a distant memory.  I don’t know many parents, and the few I do know…well, let’s just say I do a lot of hiding.   Things are different between us, and the constant chatter with the other moms makes me want to run.

I have a new full-time-plus job that is taking up every ounce of my energy nearly seven days a week.  I have three dear children who adore me, but save all that adoration for the two hours between my arrival at home and bedtime.  They all want something different, and none of them wants to wait in line behind their sister or brother.    I’m still their number one, but it’s a lot of work at the top!

I told a friend of mine (or texted, as this seems to be the only way I interact with friends these days) recently, I think it’s impossible to have a career, a family and a social life.  Two out of three of those, any two, is possible and quite enjoyable at that!  But three – just not happening, at least not in my world this year.   At the same time that I went back to work, my best friend moved to the West Coast.   Not only did I say goodbye to my community and free time, but I said goodbye to the person I’d trust with my kids, my secrets and my password file.  We check-in daily, and in fact, probably more often than we used to.  But I miss her immensely, and I feel the void anytime I’m standing in front of those elementary school steps.

* * * * * * * *

For the second day in a row, my daughter has returned home upset because her dad didn’t let her stay and play in the school yard after dismissal.  She yearns for that time to play, to be loved and to figure out her place in the social scene.  I hurt, thinking about her disappointment but also sympathizing with my husband, who likely rushed her home for the same uncomfortable reasons I would have.

I think of her teacher and her wise words on today’s newsletter:  Not everyone is going to be your friend all the time, and that is OK. People should always be kind to you, but they don’t have to be your friend. Such wise words for first graders, and for me.   I’ll remember that next time I’m reaching for the iPhone while waiting for the elementary school doors to open.

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