Just because I'm the type who likes to share (Nooooo??? Really????), I thought I'd let you guys in on yet another tidbit about me that even my husband doesn't know. Although, I suspect that he won't be very surprised to find out because in general he thinks I'm pretty weird.
In my head, I give life to inanimate objects (I think the literary term for this is anthropomorphism (kudos to Mrs. Warner, my 9th grade English teacher for my remembering that one). Yes, I tend to think that various things have feelings. Such as, if I accidentally miss seeing one of Bryony's toys while I'm putting them in her toybox, I'll feel guilty that that one toy is "left out" and doesn't get to join his gang of fellow toys in the box. Same thing goes if I'm washing dishes and find that I've forgotten to wash an errant spoon or fork. In my mind, I hear the other utensils, washed and air-drying away in the utensil cup of the drying rack, calling out to said spoon, "We're waiting for you! We haven't forgotten you!" Meanwhile, spoon is sobbing loudly to be separated from his utensil family, so I hurriedly wash him and allow him to re-join them. Yes, I know, it's weird.
This is totally an aside, but I also have trouble cropping pictures of people if it means cutting off their body parts. Even though I KNOW it's just a picture, the idea of slicing away at arms and legs and torsos is just too weird and makes me squeamish. Especially pix of my little girl. Just can't do it.
Want one more? Sure, why not? Let's make it a triple dose of weird Lauren just for fun. I have a version of Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder where I need both sides of my body to feel "even". This description is a perfect case-in-point:
"A need for both sides of the body to feel even. A person with OCD might walk down a sidewalk and step on a crack with the ball of their left foot, then feel the need to step on another crack with the ball of their right foot. Also, if one hand gets wet, the sufferer may feel very uncomfortable if the other is not."
The stepping on a crack example is a situation that has followed me pretty much my entire life. If I step on a crack or a pebble or a stick or whatever, I will need to step on either the very same object or something similar with my other foot to experience the same sensation and feel balanced. I often do it without even thinking because the need to feel "even" is so normal to me.
Hey, don't be too quick to laugh at me; I'll bet there are some pretty weird things about you, too.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Growing Up
When we were in Michigan last week, we had the privilege of accompanying an expectant friend to one of her ultrasound appointments. What a joy it was to see her unborn baby girl bouncing around, moving her lips and kicking her legs as she grows, forms and progresses. We only had one ultrasound of Bryony done, when she was 8 weeks along, so it was quite novel to see my friend's baby in utero.
It was also a little surreal to watch this while Bryony, at 13 months old, was on my lap. Even a year into parenthood, I am sometimes struck by the fact that I am someone's mother. The utter responsibility and humility of it all is still very overwhelming as I realize again and again that someone depends on me to meet her basic needs, to protect her and to serve as her first role model. Each and every thing I say or do could affect her physical and emotional growth and development. It is an awesome thing.
I look at my child each day, at the new things she has achieved, the latest things she has learned, and I am bowled over by how fast it has all gone by. While we were in Michigan, a friend was holding Bryony and I had the chance to look at her straight on, only to find to my great surprise that she is no longer a baby; her face is that of a little girl, full of expression and thoughtfulness, an old soul in the making. She started walking a few days before our trip, which was a welcome and heartwrenching event, as she moved from baby to toddler. She now shrugs her shoulders and holds her hands--palms up--in confusion as she babbles conversation at anyone who will listen. She has also taken to wagging her index finger at her parents, as if to chide us for some unknown misdeed. She laughs when we laugh, claps when she hears applause, and dances--oh, how she dances!--when she hears music.
My little girl is growing up.
But so is her mother. I have had a full life. I have studied overseas, travelled the nation and parts of the world, gone to college and graduate school, worked in remote wilderness areas amongst bears and cougars. I have lived in the big city and I have lived in small towns. I have friends from many parts of the world. I have done many of things my heart has desired. I have lived. However, becoming a parent, as cliched as it sounds, really did change everything. My time is no longer my own. My body is no longer my own--through pregnancy, birth and now breast-feeding, I share it with my child. Even my food is not my own as she explores new tastes and samples from my plate. Many times I have felt resentful about these things, resentful at the sacrifice that women make, that is so much more than most men must. But then a moment comes, like when she wakes up to nurse or reaches over to wrap my neck in her pudgy arms, and I let all of the resentment go. While I strive to maintain a strong sense of self, an identity other than just someone's mother, I am also quickly recognizing that she is the most important thing. Being my own person doesn't mean minimizing my role as mother. In fact, the choices that I make to enhance myself I hope will serve as lessons by which she will one day live, once she's grown up.
But I hope that doesn't happen too soon.
It was also a little surreal to watch this while Bryony, at 13 months old, was on my lap. Even a year into parenthood, I am sometimes struck by the fact that I am someone's mother. The utter responsibility and humility of it all is still very overwhelming as I realize again and again that someone depends on me to meet her basic needs, to protect her and to serve as her first role model. Each and every thing I say or do could affect her physical and emotional growth and development. It is an awesome thing.
I look at my child each day, at the new things she has achieved, the latest things she has learned, and I am bowled over by how fast it has all gone by. While we were in Michigan, a friend was holding Bryony and I had the chance to look at her straight on, only to find to my great surprise that she is no longer a baby; her face is that of a little girl, full of expression and thoughtfulness, an old soul in the making. She started walking a few days before our trip, which was a welcome and heartwrenching event, as she moved from baby to toddler. She now shrugs her shoulders and holds her hands--palms up--in confusion as she babbles conversation at anyone who will listen. She has also taken to wagging her index finger at her parents, as if to chide us for some unknown misdeed. She laughs when we laugh, claps when she hears applause, and dances--oh, how she dances!--when she hears music.
My little girl is growing up.
But so is her mother. I have had a full life. I have studied overseas, travelled the nation and parts of the world, gone to college and graduate school, worked in remote wilderness areas amongst bears and cougars. I have lived in the big city and I have lived in small towns. I have friends from many parts of the world. I have done many of things my heart has desired. I have lived. However, becoming a parent, as cliched as it sounds, really did change everything. My time is no longer my own. My body is no longer my own--through pregnancy, birth and now breast-feeding, I share it with my child. Even my food is not my own as she explores new tastes and samples from my plate. Many times I have felt resentful about these things, resentful at the sacrifice that women make, that is so much more than most men must. But then a moment comes, like when she wakes up to nurse or reaches over to wrap my neck in her pudgy arms, and I let all of the resentment go. While I strive to maintain a strong sense of self, an identity other than just someone's mother, I am also quickly recognizing that she is the most important thing. Being my own person doesn't mean minimizing my role as mother. In fact, the choices that I make to enhance myself I hope will serve as lessons by which she will one day live, once she's grown up.
But I hope that doesn't happen too soon.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Soul Food
Last night Bryony and I returned from a week-long venture back to our old stomping grounds in Michigan. It was fantastic, really so amazing that so many of our friends opened up their schedules and homes to us while we were in town. Each day was the perfect whirlwind of social dates and events. I even had a little free time to inspect the house, find that much of the basement was covered in mold, and work on remediating that. Special thanks to Pamela, Luke and Mateo for picking us up when we first got to town, dropping us off at the end, and all the quality time spent in between.
I needed this trip. I won't overdramatize my life in Texas, but coming back to Michigan was like feeding my soul. From the moment I passed the familiar Admiral station where Adam and I used to get our cheap gas (and that used to get held up every six months or so) I got a warm, familiar shiver that I was home. All the roads, buildings, and finally faces that made Michigan home to us for the last eight years came into focus and everything felt clear. I started to think--and Adam made sure to remind me--that Lauren in 2002 never would have thought that I would be homesick for Michigan after having just moved there from New York City. Back then, it felt like I had made a very bad choice to leave the glitz and glamour of big city life for the relative quiet, college-football-lovin', apple pie existence of the Midwest. It took a couple years (and much eye-rolling from my new Michigan friends) before I stopped comparing everything in Michigan to the "much better" alternatives back in New York. I slowly forgot my decree that I "wasn't there to make friends; I was only going to spend 2-3 years getting my degree and then get the hell out!" (presumably with an immediate move back to New York). We made friends--good friends--and without even knowing it, we put down roots. This became even truer when I got pregnant and started volunteering with local community groups and going to expectant parent meetings. I met so many new friends, people I felt I'd known for years. When Bryony finally came along, a whole new world of other new mothers and fathers opened up to us. I joined a new parents' group, a library story group, and had playdates throughout the week with various friends and their kids. Add our original friends from grad school to the mix and our lives in Michigan were one solid infrastructure.
Now in 2010, I'm not looking for urban glitz and glamour, for cafes that stay open til 2am or for trendy boutiques, clubs or restaurants. In my mid-30s, married with a small child, I'm looking for community, an infrastructure that will support me and one that I can contribute to. I want to work the earth in a community garden and volunteer my time at a community center. I want trusted playgroups for my daughter and a network of reliable and kind-hearted fellow parents to spend time with. I want non-parent friends to remind me that I am not just Bryony's mother. I want professional connections as I try to re-enter the working world. I want diversity of mindsets, cultures, political dogma and backgrounds and experiences to teach me and my child that we are all different but we are all equal. And okay, some good Indian, Thai, Mexican, Italian, Vietnamese, vegetarian, etc. restaurants would be good, too. I want food for my soul.
I have these things back in Michigan, which is why it's so hard to stay away. So far, without the benefit of a job or school, it has been harder than usual for me to make friends. I'm trying hard not to make the mistakes of the past by comparing Texas to what I had back in Michigan, but sometimes I do anyway. It's comforting--if sad--to think about what I left behind. But perhaps if I try really hard, one day I will be sad to leave Texas. Maybe then, my soul will be filled.
I needed this trip. I won't overdramatize my life in Texas, but coming back to Michigan was like feeding my soul. From the moment I passed the familiar Admiral station where Adam and I used to get our cheap gas (and that used to get held up every six months or so) I got a warm, familiar shiver that I was home. All the roads, buildings, and finally faces that made Michigan home to us for the last eight years came into focus and everything felt clear. I started to think--and Adam made sure to remind me--that Lauren in 2002 never would have thought that I would be homesick for Michigan after having just moved there from New York City. Back then, it felt like I had made a very bad choice to leave the glitz and glamour of big city life for the relative quiet, college-football-lovin', apple pie existence of the Midwest. It took a couple years (and much eye-rolling from my new Michigan friends) before I stopped comparing everything in Michigan to the "much better" alternatives back in New York. I slowly forgot my decree that I "wasn't there to make friends; I was only going to spend 2-3 years getting my degree and then get the hell out!" (presumably with an immediate move back to New York). We made friends--good friends--and without even knowing it, we put down roots. This became even truer when I got pregnant and started volunteering with local community groups and going to expectant parent meetings. I met so many new friends, people I felt I'd known for years. When Bryony finally came along, a whole new world of other new mothers and fathers opened up to us. I joined a new parents' group, a library story group, and had playdates throughout the week with various friends and their kids. Add our original friends from grad school to the mix and our lives in Michigan were one solid infrastructure.
Now in 2010, I'm not looking for urban glitz and glamour, for cafes that stay open til 2am or for trendy boutiques, clubs or restaurants. In my mid-30s, married with a small child, I'm looking for community, an infrastructure that will support me and one that I can contribute to. I want to work the earth in a community garden and volunteer my time at a community center. I want trusted playgroups for my daughter and a network of reliable and kind-hearted fellow parents to spend time with. I want non-parent friends to remind me that I am not just Bryony's mother. I want professional connections as I try to re-enter the working world. I want diversity of mindsets, cultures, political dogma and backgrounds and experiences to teach me and my child that we are all different but we are all equal. And okay, some good Indian, Thai, Mexican, Italian, Vietnamese, vegetarian, etc. restaurants would be good, too. I want food for my soul.
I have these things back in Michigan, which is why it's so hard to stay away. So far, without the benefit of a job or school, it has been harder than usual for me to make friends. I'm trying hard not to make the mistakes of the past by comparing Texas to what I had back in Michigan, but sometimes I do anyway. It's comforting--if sad--to think about what I left behind. But perhaps if I try really hard, one day I will be sad to leave Texas. Maybe then, my soul will be filled.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Big Impressions
A lot of folks have asked me over the last month how I'm finding Texas. Well, keeping with the ever-present theme of "Everything's bigger in Texas!" I'll list my top 10 notations.
10. People here eat A LOT. Okay, I've lived everywhere from Ohio to Virginia to New York to Michigan to Oregon, so I've been around a lot of people with varying appetites. I'm married to someone whose appetite is legendary amongst his friends. But by and large, Texans can eat! Food really seems to be a huge part of the culture out here and you hear about restaurants and other food-related events a lot of the time. I was in the grocery store looking for hamburger buns the other day. There were hamburger buns, and then, one shelf up, were larger buns labeled "Texas-sized hamburger buns."
9. Texas-sized appetites make for Texas-sized people, if you know what I mean.
8. Texans are also BIG smokers. It feels like just about everywhere I walk I encounter someone standing around puffing on a cigarette. I hate it, especially since I usually have Bryony with me.
7. Texas has big insects. While on a visit to Austin a few months ago, I found a huge palmetto bug (think really really really large cockroach with wings) crawling around in the backyard. Our apartment complex has a pretty nice swimming pool, and the last time I went in, I spent the better part of a half hour scooping huge grasshoppers, junebugs and various other arthropods out with the poolnet. Lots for this biologist to ponder.
6. Texas, itself, is BIG. No duh, right? I think it's the second largest state in the nation. But the sheer enormity of its size doesn't really hit you until you're trying to drive from point A to point B and it takes...forever. I guess I've gotten spoiled by living in all those small states back east.
5. Texas has big pride. I visited here during the NCAA Championships when Baylor was playing. You could hardly believe the amount of hometeam spirit radiating throughout the state. We felt it from here all the way to San Antonio. It seemed even the UT fans up in Austin let down some of their natural rivalry to cheer Baylor on. I don't think you'd ever see that type of love between Michigan State and U. Mich.
4. Texas has big HEAT. It is sweltering here. I'm in air conditioning today and I'm still sweating. The heat is so strong that getting into the outdoor pool is like going into bath water. Most people, it seems, pretty much live inside during the summer. I have a lot of respect for the laborers who do the landscaping and construction out here. They work in jeans and t-shirts in this boiling heat.
3. Texans have big trucks. Look around while you're stopped at a red light and more than 50% of the vehicles surrounding you are very large pickup trucks or SUVs. I think, to be fair, this is becoming more of the "American way" rather than just the "Texas way" but still, it's astounding to see the number of large vehicles here. I guess it's the easy access to all the big oil that keeps people comfortable enough to have such gas guzzlers.
2. Texans have big cajones on the road. I've blogged about this before, but people out here drive like crazy! Adam warned me about it when I first moved here, but I really wasn't prepared. On any given day, you'll witness several near-accidents because people ignore the rules of the road, and seem to have the attitude that their vehicle is the only one that matters. I find myself--particularly when I'm carrying my precious cargo--driving super-extra-special-carefully.
1. And lest I should be accused of ending this on a negative note, Texans have BIG HEARTS. For the most part, people here seem to be naturally good-natured and genuinely friendly. I don't know how many "honeys," "sugars," and "darlings" Bryony and I have gotten since we've been here. And, although I still really miss our home back in Michigan, the sweet-nature of the people here really does help to make the transition a wee bit easier.
10. People here eat A LOT. Okay, I've lived everywhere from Ohio to Virginia to New York to Michigan to Oregon, so I've been around a lot of people with varying appetites. I'm married to someone whose appetite is legendary amongst his friends. But by and large, Texans can eat! Food really seems to be a huge part of the culture out here and you hear about restaurants and other food-related events a lot of the time. I was in the grocery store looking for hamburger buns the other day. There were hamburger buns, and then, one shelf up, were larger buns labeled "Texas-sized hamburger buns."
9. Texas-sized appetites make for Texas-sized people, if you know what I mean.
8. Texans are also BIG smokers. It feels like just about everywhere I walk I encounter someone standing around puffing on a cigarette. I hate it, especially since I usually have Bryony with me.
7. Texas has big insects. While on a visit to Austin a few months ago, I found a huge palmetto bug (think really really really large cockroach with wings) crawling around in the backyard. Our apartment complex has a pretty nice swimming pool, and the last time I went in, I spent the better part of a half hour scooping huge grasshoppers, junebugs and various other arthropods out with the poolnet. Lots for this biologist to ponder.
6. Texas, itself, is BIG. No duh, right? I think it's the second largest state in the nation. But the sheer enormity of its size doesn't really hit you until you're trying to drive from point A to point B and it takes...forever. I guess I've gotten spoiled by living in all those small states back east.
5. Texas has big pride. I visited here during the NCAA Championships when Baylor was playing. You could hardly believe the amount of hometeam spirit radiating throughout the state. We felt it from here all the way to San Antonio. It seemed even the UT fans up in Austin let down some of their natural rivalry to cheer Baylor on. I don't think you'd ever see that type of love between Michigan State and U. Mich.
4. Texas has big HEAT. It is sweltering here. I'm in air conditioning today and I'm still sweating. The heat is so strong that getting into the outdoor pool is like going into bath water. Most people, it seems, pretty much live inside during the summer. I have a lot of respect for the laborers who do the landscaping and construction out here. They work in jeans and t-shirts in this boiling heat.
3. Texans have big trucks. Look around while you're stopped at a red light and more than 50% of the vehicles surrounding you are very large pickup trucks or SUVs. I think, to be fair, this is becoming more of the "American way" rather than just the "Texas way" but still, it's astounding to see the number of large vehicles here. I guess it's the easy access to all the big oil that keeps people comfortable enough to have such gas guzzlers.
2. Texans have big cajones on the road. I've blogged about this before, but people out here drive like crazy! Adam warned me about it when I first moved here, but I really wasn't prepared. On any given day, you'll witness several near-accidents because people ignore the rules of the road, and seem to have the attitude that their vehicle is the only one that matters. I find myself--particularly when I'm carrying my precious cargo--driving super-extra-special-carefully.
1. And lest I should be accused of ending this on a negative note, Texans have BIG HEARTS. For the most part, people here seem to be naturally good-natured and genuinely friendly. I don't know how many "honeys," "sugars," and "darlings" Bryony and I have gotten since we've been here. And, although I still really miss our home back in Michigan, the sweet-nature of the people here really does help to make the transition a wee bit easier.
One More Question...An Addendum
It just dawned on me reading over my last post that possibly the most interesting question you could ask a stay-at-home-parent is:
"What is the biggest misconception about your job?"
I will fully admit that it is not my goal to continue to stay at home with Bryony; I am currently actively seeking employment back in the wildlife field. However, despite my frustration and discouragement at not being able to find a job, I am constantly reminded of the fact that I am so very lucky to have this job to happily work at in the meantime. I know I will miss this time with Bryony once I'm punching in for a 8-9 hour workday, so I'm trying to enjoy it as much as possible before our all-day time together is over.
In response to the above question, I know my answer. But, you'll have to catch me at a dinner party and ask me yourself to hear it.
"What is the biggest misconception about your job?"
I will fully admit that it is not my goal to continue to stay at home with Bryony; I am currently actively seeking employment back in the wildlife field. However, despite my frustration and discouragement at not being able to find a job, I am constantly reminded of the fact that I am so very lucky to have this job to happily work at in the meantime. I know I will miss this time with Bryony once I'm punching in for a 8-9 hour workday, so I'm trying to enjoy it as much as possible before our all-day time together is over.
In response to the above question, I know my answer. But, you'll have to catch me at a dinner party and ask me yourself to hear it.
Monday, July 5, 2010
The Third Degree
A few months ago, a good friend of mine who is a top professional in her field admitted to me that she couldn't think of any conversation to make with her coworker's wife, who is a stay-at-home-mother (SAHM). I think that before I had a kid, I was probably in a similar mindset, assuming that the lives of SAHMs are so predictable and obvious that there probably isn't much to ask or converse about.
*WRONG*
Even if you're not interested in having kids yourself, there are tons of interesting questions you can ask (and even more interesting answers you'll receive) a SAHM (or SAHD, for all those fathers out there who are doing the full-time parenting). After all, we manage to come up with questions for people in all types of work that we couldn't see pursuing ourselves; why should making conversation with a full-time parent be any different?
Here are a few I've been thinking about for folks who might want a little help with the small talk at dinner parties and get-togethers. We SAHM(D)s are interesting people who like to talk about our jobs as much as the next person! Fire away!
1) Do you find this community conducive to families and do stay-at-home parents have a good support system here?
2) What's the biggest surprise/challenge/joy you've had since becoming a parent?
3) What is a typical day for you like?
4) Are you enjoying your job? Is it one you wanted to do for a long time?
5) How often do you get a break? Do you have baby-sitting or child care outlets so you can have a little time to yourself?
You can always ask about school systems, what milestones children have achieved lately and what the parent likes and dislikes most about their job. I would just avoid overly personal questions like "Are you planning to have more children?" or "Was it very difficult for you to conceive?". After all, you wouldn't ask someone at an office job how much money they make. There are just some places you shouldn't go.
*WRONG*
Even if you're not interested in having kids yourself, there are tons of interesting questions you can ask (and even more interesting answers you'll receive) a SAHM (or SAHD, for all those fathers out there who are doing the full-time parenting). After all, we manage to come up with questions for people in all types of work that we couldn't see pursuing ourselves; why should making conversation with a full-time parent be any different?
Here are a few I've been thinking about for folks who might want a little help with the small talk at dinner parties and get-togethers. We SAHM(D)s are interesting people who like to talk about our jobs as much as the next person! Fire away!
1) Do you find this community conducive to families and do stay-at-home parents have a good support system here?
2) What's the biggest surprise/challenge/joy you've had since becoming a parent?
3) What is a typical day for you like?
4) Are you enjoying your job? Is it one you wanted to do for a long time?
5) How often do you get a break? Do you have baby-sitting or child care outlets so you can have a little time to yourself?
You can always ask about school systems, what milestones children have achieved lately and what the parent likes and dislikes most about their job. I would just avoid overly personal questions like "Are you planning to have more children?" or "Was it very difficult for you to conceive?". After all, you wouldn't ask someone at an office job how much money they make. There are just some places you shouldn't go.
Anatomy of a Storytime
This is a couple weeks old, but I thought it was adorable. Here, Adam is with Bryony at Barnes & Noble trying to read her a book. Follow along with the pix to see how she eventually relents to being read to.
The Butterfly Effect
It's no secret that over the years many people have accused me--both endearingly and exasperatedly--of being a social butterfly. In general, I like people. I find people interesting and quirky, and oftentimes I like people that no one else does, because I can either a) find that little nugget of redeaming characteristic to keep me tuned in, or b) see the reason they are difficult and work my way around it. And yes, I generally find people interesting enough to spend the extra time trying to work out a way to get along with them.
Typically, I make new friends really easily because I have a pretty outgoing personality. I'm not shy, I don't avoid social situations and I like to ask people a lot of questions to get to know them better. Because of this, I have amassed a large number of friends in the different places I've lived, and I'm fortunate to have venues like e-mail and Facebook so that I'm able to easily keep in touch with them all.
I was talking to my oldest friend the other day, and telling her about what a difficult time I've had meeting people and making acquaintances--let alone, friends--here in Texas. After all, it's been a month, and I have now gone to two story hour events at the local libraries, hoping to meet other parents and their kids. My experience both times was that of sitting with Bryony at a table, while women stood right next to us with their backs to us chatting about something or someone they both knew. Not once did anyone reach out and ask if we were new (which I thought it pretty obvious we were), what our names were, where we were from, or even introduce themeselves. I felt very uncomfortable and out of my comfort zone, a feeling that I don't often have. It was one of isolation.
I realized that I'm used to being the one who already knows people and so it's very easy for me to bring new people into the fold. One of the nicest compliments I received back in Michigan by a new friend I met at a New Mother's group was that she immediately liked me because out of all the women at the meeting, I was the only one who came over and introduced myself to her, making her feel comfortable and welcome at once. I don't even remember doing that, but it made my heart warm to know that I made someone else feel welcome and accepted. But that comes fairly naturally to me because I do like meeting new people and bringing them into my group of friends.
But, I've realized that being outgoing is a completely different ballgame when you're on the other side...that is, you're the one who's waiting to be "brought in" to the group by someone else. During the story hour, Bryony and I just sat there and sat there, and I thought for sure that someone might acknowledge us. After all, this is a military town with people constantly being "new"; everyone keeps telling me that these places tend to be very warm and inviting. Instead, I found during both hour-long events that people stuck to talking to the people they already knew, and a straggler like me was left to fend for myself.
My butterfly wings are starting to look a little faded and worn, so it's about time I get them back into top form. Surely there were other newbies like ourselves there, so I'll just have to search them out and start comversation. If that doesn't work, I think Bryony and I will have to find a new flower patch where the social pickings are a little sweeter.
Typically, I make new friends really easily because I have a pretty outgoing personality. I'm not shy, I don't avoid social situations and I like to ask people a lot of questions to get to know them better. Because of this, I have amassed a large number of friends in the different places I've lived, and I'm fortunate to have venues like e-mail and Facebook so that I'm able to easily keep in touch with them all.
I was talking to my oldest friend the other day, and telling her about what a difficult time I've had meeting people and making acquaintances--let alone, friends--here in Texas. After all, it's been a month, and I have now gone to two story hour events at the local libraries, hoping to meet other parents and their kids. My experience both times was that of sitting with Bryony at a table, while women stood right next to us with their backs to us chatting about something or someone they both knew. Not once did anyone reach out and ask if we were new (which I thought it pretty obvious we were), what our names were, where we were from, or even introduce themeselves. I felt very uncomfortable and out of my comfort zone, a feeling that I don't often have. It was one of isolation.
I realized that I'm used to being the one who already knows people and so it's very easy for me to bring new people into the fold. One of the nicest compliments I received back in Michigan by a new friend I met at a New Mother's group was that she immediately liked me because out of all the women at the meeting, I was the only one who came over and introduced myself to her, making her feel comfortable and welcome at once. I don't even remember doing that, but it made my heart warm to know that I made someone else feel welcome and accepted. But that comes fairly naturally to me because I do like meeting new people and bringing them into my group of friends.
But, I've realized that being outgoing is a completely different ballgame when you're on the other side...that is, you're the one who's waiting to be "brought in" to the group by someone else. During the story hour, Bryony and I just sat there and sat there, and I thought for sure that someone might acknowledge us. After all, this is a military town with people constantly being "new"; everyone keeps telling me that these places tend to be very warm and inviting. Instead, I found during both hour-long events that people stuck to talking to the people they already knew, and a straggler like me was left to fend for myself.
My butterfly wings are starting to look a little faded and worn, so it's about time I get them back into top form. Surely there were other newbies like ourselves there, so I'll just have to search them out and start comversation. If that doesn't work, I think Bryony and I will have to find a new flower patch where the social pickings are a little sweeter.
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