Sunday, October 19, 2008

Do I REALLY Have to Play Nice?

So I have to be honest about something, and I'm just going to come right out and say it so I can immediately stifle any ridiculous idea your imagination can conjure. I have a wicked fear of being left out. Or left behind. Or left. Wicked. So, there's that.

When I got to school to pick Fin up on Thursday there was some weird mommy dynamic going on. One of the mama's I usually chat with a little had run into a friend and the other one was giving me the brush-off (or so I have decided in my paranoia). All of a sudden I felt like there had been a "make friends" social that I had missed. Seriously, I had to rack my brain to try and figure out if there WAS something I had missed. So I picked Fin up and fretted the rest of the day.

After the kids were asleep, and it was just me and Woob in our quiet room, I pelted him with questions: Should I be worried about this? Does it matter if the other mommies are friends? Does it matter if I have no mommy friends in his class? Do you think I could have done something to irritate them already? And then again, does this really matter?

Like any good husband, he stared at me for a few minutes, hoping that I would answer at least some of those myself and take the heat off of him. And like any good wife, I started over-explaining my fears. I know that at some point it does matter. At some point his social standing may indeed be decided by his mama's buds even more so than his own. And I get that. I lived that myself. And I'm sure we'd see alot less of James if I didn't like Monika so much. On the flip side, as I laughingly told Moni the next day, even if the boys decided they didn't like eachother, we'd say tough tatas. But does it matter now?

(Its amazing when you have children how closely you have to examine every teeny decision that could have any impact on their future and who they might become...)

The consensus was that, no it doesn't really matter yet. A relief, I don't have to play nice just yet. And then Woob injected that it "wouldn't hurt to start being sweeter." After a long argument on the difference between "sweet" and "nice", it was still suggested that I try being a little nicer and perhaps a little more approachable. So I asked Woob a question I'm sure no husband wants to hear...

No, I did not ask him if I was "her" size.

I asked him to give three adjectives to describe me, and they didn't have to be nice one's. Brave, I know. He tossed out: Honest, Loyal and Bossy. I guess that last one caught a look because he ammended it to Organized. Ok, I agree. Even with the bossy. I know who I am, and mostly I'm pretty proud of all of it. Sure I still have days where I feel like my body is the enemy (as I'm sure anyone who has had two kids close understands), but my personality? Not so much. I have some sharp edges and I choose to embrace them rather than file them down. I am, probably above all things, honest. And often, that comes as incompatible with nice. And I am loyal, fiercely so, which can also butt up against nice. And Bossy? Yeah. Even if I'd asked him for 10, I don't think Nice would have been one. Possibly kind, or empathetic, considerate maybe, but not nice. And I'm ok with that. And I'm glad that at least for now I can just rest happy with my friends who are ok with that too. Maybe next year I'll try being the Nice mom. At least until the boys out me. Heh.

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