Okay, y'all. I was in the library, and who should be ringing up my fines but the China-traveling librarian that we'd thought about asking for dessert. I hestitated. I pretended I didn't notice the opportunity. But I could hear y'all behind me: "Come on, just ask her. You're the one who was going on about 'lost social relics.' It won't hurt you. She'll be pleased! Go for it!" (By the way, you need to keep your voices down in the library.)
So I said, "This may seem a bit odd, but my husband and I would love to hear more about your trip to China. Would you like to come over for dessert some evening?"
She stared at me, then called security and hit me with pepper spray.
Not really. She looked surprised, pleased, and said she'd talk to her husband about it. It'll probably be after Easter, as we're both rather busy till then. And it might not come off... but hey! I did it!
(Applause is appropriate here.)
Showing posts with label Friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friendship. Show all posts
Friday, March 7, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Taking My Own Medicine
Today I certifiably "practiced what I preached." Because, see, there was a Valentine's party we'd said we would attend. Today, the weather was yucky and I figured it would be cancelled... but, nope, it was still on. And I didn't want to go.
I'd have to stop by the store and get snacks on the way. And -- oh yes -- Valentines for 30 kids. I hadn't told Ladybug and Titan about it so they wouldn't even know. I could tell the hostess that, um, "something came up" and I couldn't make it. Since this is a new group and the members don't know each other very well, I probably wouldn't even be missed anyway. It was easier to stay in.
But, if y'all recall, # 3 on my list was "Accept invitations." It was MY VERY OWN ADVICE.
Half an hour later, I was sitting in the van in the grocery store parking lot, scribbling names on cards for a party we were already 20 minutes late for. Once there, we didn't leave for two and a half hours: Ladybug, Titan, and even Dilly had an absolute ball. Plus, I got to meet a couple of new people, and see another friend whom I've gotten to know in the past few weeks. As we left, our arms full of Valentines, Ladybug said rapturously, "Everyone there cares for me! They all gave me Valentines!"
So, just so you know, it's good advice. Even I take it.
I'd have to stop by the store and get snacks on the way. And -- oh yes -- Valentines for 30 kids. I hadn't told Ladybug and Titan about it so they wouldn't even know. I could tell the hostess that, um, "something came up" and I couldn't make it. Since this is a new group and the members don't know each other very well, I probably wouldn't even be missed anyway. It was easier to stay in.
But, if y'all recall, # 3 on my list was "Accept invitations." It was MY VERY OWN ADVICE.
Half an hour later, I was sitting in the van in the grocery store parking lot, scribbling names on cards for a party we were already 20 minutes late for. Once there, we didn't leave for two and a half hours: Ladybug, Titan, and even Dilly had an absolute ball. Plus, I got to meet a couple of new people, and see another friend whom I've gotten to know in the past few weeks. As we left, our arms full of Valentines, Ladybug said rapturously, "Everyone there cares for me! They all gave me Valentines!"
So, just so you know, it's good advice. Even I take it.
Sunday, February 10, 2008
How To Make Friends
or, How I Made Friends,
or, Things To Do That Will Make Making Friends Easier,
or, Lots of Advice That May or May Not Be Helpful
Every time I tried mentally organizing this post, it came out sounding like a diet-program testimonial. (Wacky coincidence, seeing as I certainly wouldn't *read* diet-program testimonials.) "I was pretty lonely, but then I applied these simple methods, and now I have friends! Tons of friends! I have to circulate a sign-up sheet to fit in all their phone calls! I have so many friends that I couldn't possibly add another until one of my current ones dies!" So as you read, please don't take it as saying that this is a foolproof and exhaustive method for dispelling loneliness. I simply jotted down a few things that have helped me make friends in my new married-with-kids life. (For instance, I don't include 'bribes to make people like you,' but that could be effective on some level).
1. Be approachable. I'm probably revealing a lot about myself here, but it seems that when we grow up and have to make friends as adults, we haven't quite left behind those junior high insecurities. And if you think you look or sound like a dork, and that the other women are going to laugh at you behind your back, then guess what? You're not going to be as welcoming to new friends as you might could be. Now, I was a member of a MOMS Club for four years, and I saw lots of junior high holdovers... including women laughing at others for being dorky. But somebody has to be the grownup, and if it's you, you'll attract the other grownups.
2. Make a date. If your acquaintance says, "We should get together and let the kids play sometime," then your answer should not be, "Yes. We need to do that." Stop. Rewind. "I'd love that! I'm free most mornings. How about next Wednesday?"
3. Accept invitations. Yes, I know, "duh" -- unless you're something of a homebody, like me, and you're a whole lot better at pity-parties than scrapbooking parties. If you are invited to lunch, a playdate, a party, then make the effort to attend. I'm a complete hypocrite, by the way: I blatantly ignored a Pampered Chef invitation last month, from someone I really like and haven't seen in months. Why? Because I hate "paying parties" and it's easier just staying home. Only you don't get as many invitations after a while...
4. Move beyond Mommy Talk. It's a grand thing to share advice, sympathy, and laughs over this bewildering adventure called motherhood. But even adventures need subplots. When you find yourself talking audibly about "pooping" in public, it's time to move the conversation to a new track. The best way to do it is to have questions in mind and work them into the conversation. For instance:
* Where are you from originally?
* What do you enjoy doing to relax?
* Books? Movies? Shows?
* How did you choose your children's names?
* What does your name mean?
* Let's talk about names, names, names
* Sorry. Got carried away there.
* But that's what happens to conversations around me, anyway. We always end up on names. Odd.
Is the idea of scripted questions corny? Yes! That's why nobody does it, and it's why you're stuck talking about potty-training week after week.
5. Invite people over. This is a sadly-neglected relic of our social past. When was the last time you got an invitation to someone's house? Well, except for a paying party, grrr. You don't have to invite people over for an all-afternoon barbecue. "Would you like to eat dinner with us? About 6:30 on Friday," works just fine. If you can't do dinner, invite them for dessert. You can have a great visit from 7:00 to 9:00, and still get to bed in time to get up for work, school, or kids tomorrow. Dessert is also a great way to invite large families over without having to fit everyone in for a meal. We hosted a family of 10 for ice cream almost effortlessly.
6. Keep in touch by email or phone. Again, I'm a hypocrite here, but only because I don't manage my time. Way too much time blogging, and not as much sending emails to non-blogging friends.
7. Converse, don't talk. I had one acquaintance, Liz, whose idea of conversation was to wait for the other person to stop talking so she could pick back up again. The friendship did not blossom.
8. Admire other people's talents, taste, and children. I don't mean you should pile on the, um, flattery to get them to like you. Instead, look for things to appreciate. It helps you step outside yourself if you notice what others do well... and it certainly doesn't hurt others' feelings, either.
As for admiring their children, the flip side of that is not to expect them to admire yours. Liz, mentioned above, could not conceive that I didn't find her child as amazing as she did. Everything he did, from smiling to gaining weight to sitting up by himself, was commented on and displayed. Did Miss Mairzy want her children admired, too? Yes, class! Did Miss Mairzy get tired of having to gush over The Wonder Child? Yes, class! It wasn't that Liz was superior about it -- she was a very good-natured person. She just forgot the cardinal rule of interaction with other moms: Only you think your child is that cute. (The friendship, I repeat, did not blossom.)
9. I did a lot of praying, which may or may not be applicable to your particular worldview.
10. And, of course, there's always the possibility that... well, she's just not that into you. But you never know till you try.
Some friendships start out with a sparkle, but even those take a couple of years to mature into deep heart friendships. Be patient, be friendly, and expect to have friends.
or, Things To Do That Will Make Making Friends Easier,
or, Lots of Advice That May or May Not Be Helpful
Every time I tried mentally organizing this post, it came out sounding like a diet-program testimonial. (Wacky coincidence, seeing as I certainly wouldn't *read* diet-program testimonials.) "I was pretty lonely, but then I applied these simple methods, and now I have friends! Tons of friends! I have to circulate a sign-up sheet to fit in all their phone calls! I have so many friends that I couldn't possibly add another until one of my current ones dies!" So as you read, please don't take it as saying that this is a foolproof and exhaustive method for dispelling loneliness. I simply jotted down a few things that have helped me make friends in my new married-with-kids life. (For instance, I don't include 'bribes to make people like you,' but that could be effective on some level).
1. Be approachable. I'm probably revealing a lot about myself here, but it seems that when we grow up and have to make friends as adults, we haven't quite left behind those junior high insecurities. And if you think you look or sound like a dork, and that the other women are going to laugh at you behind your back, then guess what? You're not going to be as welcoming to new friends as you might could be. Now, I was a member of a MOMS Club for four years, and I saw lots of junior high holdovers... including women laughing at others for being dorky. But somebody has to be the grownup, and if it's you, you'll attract the other grownups.
2. Make a date. If your acquaintance says, "We should get together and let the kids play sometime," then your answer should not be, "Yes. We need to do that." Stop. Rewind. "I'd love that! I'm free most mornings. How about next Wednesday?"
3. Accept invitations. Yes, I know, "duh" -- unless you're something of a homebody, like me, and you're a whole lot better at pity-parties than scrapbooking parties. If you are invited to lunch, a playdate, a party, then make the effort to attend. I'm a complete hypocrite, by the way: I blatantly ignored a Pampered Chef invitation last month, from someone I really like and haven't seen in months. Why? Because I hate "paying parties" and it's easier just staying home. Only you don't get as many invitations after a while...
4. Move beyond Mommy Talk. It's a grand thing to share advice, sympathy, and laughs over this bewildering adventure called motherhood. But even adventures need subplots. When you find yourself talking audibly about "pooping" in public, it's time to move the conversation to a new track. The best way to do it is to have questions in mind and work them into the conversation. For instance:
* Where are you from originally?
* What do you enjoy doing to relax?
* Books? Movies? Shows?
* How did you choose your children's names?
* What does your name mean?
* Let's talk about names, names, names
* Sorry. Got carried away there.
* But that's what happens to conversations around me, anyway. We always end up on names. Odd.
Is the idea of scripted questions corny? Yes! That's why nobody does it, and it's why you're stuck talking about potty-training week after week.
5. Invite people over. This is a sadly-neglected relic of our social past. When was the last time you got an invitation to someone's house? Well, except for a paying party, grrr. You don't have to invite people over for an all-afternoon barbecue. "Would you like to eat dinner with us? About 6:30 on Friday," works just fine. If you can't do dinner, invite them for dessert. You can have a great visit from 7:00 to 9:00, and still get to bed in time to get up for work, school, or kids tomorrow. Dessert is also a great way to invite large families over without having to fit everyone in for a meal. We hosted a family of 10 for ice cream almost effortlessly.
6. Keep in touch by email or phone. Again, I'm a hypocrite here, but only because I don't manage my time. Way too much time blogging, and not as much sending emails to non-blogging friends.
7. Converse, don't talk. I had one acquaintance, Liz, whose idea of conversation was to wait for the other person to stop talking so she could pick back up again. The friendship did not blossom.
8. Admire other people's talents, taste, and children. I don't mean you should pile on the, um, flattery to get them to like you. Instead, look for things to appreciate. It helps you step outside yourself if you notice what others do well... and it certainly doesn't hurt others' feelings, either.
As for admiring their children, the flip side of that is not to expect them to admire yours. Liz, mentioned above, could not conceive that I didn't find her child as amazing as she did. Everything he did, from smiling to gaining weight to sitting up by himself, was commented on and displayed. Did Miss Mairzy want her children admired, too? Yes, class! Did Miss Mairzy get tired of having to gush over The Wonder Child? Yes, class! It wasn't that Liz was superior about it -- she was a very good-natured person. She just forgot the cardinal rule of interaction with other moms: Only you think your child is that cute. (The friendship, I repeat, did not blossom.)
9. I did a lot of praying, which may or may not be applicable to your particular worldview.
10. And, of course, there's always the possibility that... well, she's just not that into you. But you never know till you try.
Some friendships start out with a sparkle, but even those take a couple of years to mature into deep heart friendships. Be patient, be friendly, and expect to have friends.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Social Tips
1. Don't try to fit into one week: school the kids, write the newsletter article, work on the novel, feed the family, attend special services at church, stay up till 11 with the baby, and get a migraine from lack of sleep at the children's weekly learning co-op. (Yes, AT the co-op. I spent the morning lying on the nursery floor, because it was carpeted, wishing I had something more than ibuprofen to take. Like morphine, for instance.)
How does this type of week negatively impact your social life? Because not only will you not have time to call or email anyone other than your husband ("Could I get you to email me that address? And did I remember to send my library books with you? Oh, and can you make the day go faster? Because I've decided that I just don't feel like going through today.")... you won't have time to even think about any blog posts you may have said you'll do.
2. If you DO manage to get to the computer to compose prose, don't do it within sight of the 17-month-old. She will spend the entire computer session hanging on your leg saying, "Ut! Ut! UT!" When you refuse to pick her "ut," she will grab the mouse. When you move the mouse, she will reach the k00..ey...
00board. When you firmly move her way from the keyboard, she will be overcome by despair and sink her head onto your lap, and bite you.
3. Keep coming to Mairzy's blog. It probably doesn't do a whole lot for your social life, but it certainly helps hers.
How does this type of week negatively impact your social life? Because not only will you not have time to call or email anyone other than your husband ("Could I get you to email me that address? And did I remember to send my library books with you? Oh, and can you make the day go faster? Because I've decided that I just don't feel like going through today.")... you won't have time to even think about any blog posts you may have said you'll do.
2. If you DO manage to get to the computer to compose prose, don't do it within sight of the 17-month-old. She will spend the entire computer session hanging on your leg saying, "Ut! Ut! UT!" When you refuse to pick her "ut," she will grab the mouse. When you move the mouse, she will reach the k00..ey...
00board. When you firmly move her way from the keyboard, she will be overcome by despair and sink her head onto your lap, and bite you.
3. Keep coming to Mairzy's blog. It probably doesn't do a whole lot for your social life, but it certainly helps hers.
Saturday, February 2, 2008
The Dating Game, Round Two
You expect to outgrow it.
Throughout junior high and high school, it's the only thing that matters: I like him, does he like me, will he actually ask me to go with him, blah blah blah. Where I grew up, we didn't call it "going out," we called it "going with." Every single adult who heard us use the term would ask, "Going with him WHERE?" and chortle over how young and dumb we were. This from the generation that invented "going steady." (*grumble grumble Baby Boomers grumble grumble*) Of course we didn't actually go anywhere; once we were old enough to Go On Dates, there just weren't many places to go in a one-stoplight Southern town. But that didn't stop us from talking about the possibility virtually all the time.
As often happens, though, we grew up. I got married, moved away from my hometown, and had a baby all within about a year. That's when I found out that I hadn't put the dating game behind me. Now that it was easy as anything to get a date, get a kiss, get laid -- now I discovered that the playing field was still open. Only I wasn't a young single on the lookout for a boyfriend: I was a young mom on the lookout for friends.
It all felt strangely familiar. I'd catch sight of an interesting mom at the playground and strike up a conversation while our kids played. Maybe, just maybe, the chat would result in an exchange of phone numbers. If I was lucky, she'd be home when I called. We'd meet at the mall, or the library, a few times before venturing to suggest that we could have a playdate at one of our houses. All the while, we were testing the waters, figuring out if we clicked or not. We were always hoping to stumble on that one great friendship story, the one that said, "We met at this random place, started talking, and we haven't stopped for fifteen years!"
But good heavens was it hard to find that kind of friend! I wanted someone I could call up for no reason, or email seven times in one day without apology. Most of all, someone I could "go with": go with to get coffee, go with to browse shops, go with to a movie. I didn't think I was asking for much, but apparently I was asking for the moon. I did spend about a year getting together with one friend, plus exchanging frequent emails and weekly phone conversations... but it never really worked. In the end we tacitly agreed to be just acquaintances. It was pretty frustrating for someone who met, dated, and married the same guy. I thought romance was supposed to be the hard part.
When all else fails, be patient. One friend I particularly liked was Laura, who lived nearby and whose daughter is the same age as Ladybug. We instantly hit it off, but I learned -- painfully slowly -- that those fifteen-year conversations don't really happen instantaneously. It's one thing to spend an afternoon in pleasant chitchat while our children played. It took much longer for her to confide in me that she suffers from anxiety attacks, or for me to admit how lonely it could be as a stay-at-home mom. It's taken five years, in fact.
But finally. She asked me to go with her! For my birthday, no less. We left the kids with our respective husbands, and went out for lunch and coffee. Then we browsed shops together. When we headed home, Laura said, "We finally actually got away! Now that we've done it once, we'll have to do it again!"
It's only one coffee outing, I know. It's really too soon to say. But I think... I think it might be forever.
Throughout junior high and high school, it's the only thing that matters: I like him, does he like me, will he actually ask me to go with him, blah blah blah. Where I grew up, we didn't call it "going out," we called it "going with." Every single adult who heard us use the term would ask, "Going with him WHERE?" and chortle over how young and dumb we were. This from the generation that invented "going steady." (*grumble grumble Baby Boomers grumble grumble*) Of course we didn't actually go anywhere; once we were old enough to Go On Dates, there just weren't many places to go in a one-stoplight Southern town. But that didn't stop us from talking about the possibility virtually all the time.
As often happens, though, we grew up. I got married, moved away from my hometown, and had a baby all within about a year. That's when I found out that I hadn't put the dating game behind me. Now that it was easy as anything to get a date, get a kiss, get laid -- now I discovered that the playing field was still open. Only I wasn't a young single on the lookout for a boyfriend: I was a young mom on the lookout for friends.
It all felt strangely familiar. I'd catch sight of an interesting mom at the playground and strike up a conversation while our kids played. Maybe, just maybe, the chat would result in an exchange of phone numbers. If I was lucky, she'd be home when I called. We'd meet at the mall, or the library, a few times before venturing to suggest that we could have a playdate at one of our houses. All the while, we were testing the waters, figuring out if we clicked or not. We were always hoping to stumble on that one great friendship story, the one that said, "We met at this random place, started talking, and we haven't stopped for fifteen years!"
But good heavens was it hard to find that kind of friend! I wanted someone I could call up for no reason, or email seven times in one day without apology. Most of all, someone I could "go with": go with to get coffee, go with to browse shops, go with to a movie. I didn't think I was asking for much, but apparently I was asking for the moon. I did spend about a year getting together with one friend, plus exchanging frequent emails and weekly phone conversations... but it never really worked. In the end we tacitly agreed to be just acquaintances. It was pretty frustrating for someone who met, dated, and married the same guy. I thought romance was supposed to be the hard part.
When all else fails, be patient. One friend I particularly liked was Laura, who lived nearby and whose daughter is the same age as Ladybug. We instantly hit it off, but I learned -- painfully slowly -- that those fifteen-year conversations don't really happen instantaneously. It's one thing to spend an afternoon in pleasant chitchat while our children played. It took much longer for her to confide in me that she suffers from anxiety attacks, or for me to admit how lonely it could be as a stay-at-home mom. It's taken five years, in fact.
But finally. She asked me to go with her! For my birthday, no less. We left the kids with our respective husbands, and went out for lunch and coffee. Then we browsed shops together. When we headed home, Laura said, "We finally actually got away! Now that we've done it once, we'll have to do it again!"
It's only one coffee outing, I know. It's really too soon to say. But I think... I think it might be forever.
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