Choco-Latte

I spent an fantastic afternoon and evening with two of my dearest friends this weekend. I don't get out much by myself, and when I do it's usually associated with super fun activities like oil changes and pap smears. So, I was excited to spend afternoon out with my pants on.

We met at a large shopping center to do some window shopping before we had dinner. My friend N- was in desperate need of caffeine, and there happened to be an expensive, well known java establishment in the strip mall. I happen to be a huge fan of paying $4 for a cup of coffee, so I happily stood in line with her. She ordered a cappucino, which is pretty straightforward in the world of $4 coffee drinks, and the three of us sat down to wait.

And wait.
And wait.

I watched the woman behind the counter with growing concern. She was alone, making drinks, and frequently consulting a manual. "Oh." I said. "That can't be good."

N-'s drink was finally ready and she took it to the condiment bar to add sugar. She came back to table scowling. "There's chocolate syrup all over the top of my cappucino."

"That's not right." I said.
N- took the drink backto the counter and I groaned. This was not going to go well.

"Hi, I just ordered a cappucino?" She said it like an apology.
"Yes?" the woman replied.
"Well, this has chocolate syrup on it."
"Oh, you didn't want chocoloate syrup on it?"

Now, it's not like she ordered a salad with no tomatoes, or a hamburger, hold the mayo. Ordering a cappucino with no chocolate syrup is a little like ordering a grilled cheese with no oatmeal.

"No, I don't want chocolate syrup."
"Because some people like the syrup."
"No, I just want a cappucino."

N- returned to the table and I thought of all the things I could order, without the customary chocolate syrup. Spaghetti, no syrup. Chili dog, chocolate syrup on the side. Taco, no choco.

Finally, after another ridiculously long wait, the cappucino was done. "Cappucino!" she yelled for all to hear. Then looking at N-, she added - "NO CHOCOLATE!"

With Friends Like These...

My family moved a good bit when I was a child and, as a result, I never attended the same school for more than two years. So, as Katie enters 5th grade at the same school she's attended since kindergarten, walking into the building is a little like coming home.

First day of 5th grade!

 This school is like a family, and like all families, there are the people you love and the people that you wish would move across the country. With three or four classes per grade level, Katie's been in class with just about all of the kids in her grade by now. It's fun going in and getting hugs from little girls I've known for several years, or taught in a Brownie troop, or helped in class with. It's nice to see little bitties growing into young men and women. They are so sweet, and so decent, and still mostly innocent.

Mostly.

I've always said that I would never tell my children who they could be friends with, as long as the friends weren't involved in dangerous or morally repugnant behavior. I love saying 'morally repugnant'! And really, the worst thing we've run across in our little rural elementary school is the occasional middle finger and one kid who peed in a water bottle on a dare. It has been, at best, low level hooliganism.

Which makes it even harder when Katie has friends that I just don't like. Or, worse, who's parents I just don't like. I can't say, "Hey, Katie. Don't hang out with that person because she's rude and her mom is a bigot." I won't ever disallow my child to be friends with a person based on their race or religious beliefs or where they live or their socio-economic bracket. So I can't disallow it when the kid is just a jerk.

So what can I do? I can't go around kicking asses, though I've said "I'm going to kick that kid's ass!" through clenched teeth on more than one occasion. I can try my best to teach my children to be friends with people who are kind and considerate and polite, at least most of the time. I can tell them what good people they are, so they believe they are deserving of friends who don't treat them like a doormat. I can give them confidence, so that when the day comes that they have to look a kid in the eye and tell them to back off, they can do it. I can teach them to be a good friend.

I hope it's enough. I can't protect them entirely from bullies and hurt and lost friendships and broken hearts. I can give them what tools I can, and be there to help them pick up the pieces when they don't work. I will try to be an advocate when necessary, and stand back when needed. And kick ass, if it comes to it.

Inside, Outside. It's All Work.

I struggled with working mommy angst for Katie's first three years of life. The day I quit my job, I very literally jumped for joy walking through the parking lot. Never again was I going to miss a milestone in my daughters' life. I would be there for every first, every field trip, every party. It was going to be so awesome, so perfect. I would be there, for everything.

Everyday.
All day.
By myself.
With a three year old.

It didn't take long for the novelty of staying in my pajamas until noon to wear off. Frankly, I didn't know what to do with her - or myself - all day. Staying at home was so completely different and I found myself lost and floundering. I was used to constant adult interaction at work, then a frenetic pace trying to get dinner and housework and quality interaction with my husband and child when I got home. What I had been squeezing into 2 hours, I now had 10 hours to to do.

I was bored. And lonely.

My entire adult life, I had relied on my job as my social network. Friendships were formed based on mutual like or dislike of the workplace, and cemented over drinks after work. When I stopped working, I no longer had much in common with those people, and phone calls became more strained and less frequent. "So, we're getting ready for this big meeting on Monday and trying to get the TPS reports ready." "Oh, yeah? Well you should have seen the POOP my kid had today! Hahahaha!"

Eventually, they stopped calling.

I felt like I lost my identity. I went from being someone who was kind of important to someone who was a slave to a toddler. My boss went from being a tyrannical 60 year old man to a tyrannical 3 year old girl. At least the man didn't require me to fix his lunch or wipe his butt. I was "just a mom." At the same time, I didn't know how to break into those mommy circles. Those women at the park with their well packed diaper bags and monogrammed lunch boxes and conversations about consignment sales and girls night out. I wanted to be one of them, but I just didn't know how.

Then I met G. She invited me to a church playgroup event. And another one, and another one. She kept calling me and introducing me to everyone she knew. She'd always say things like "Come with me" and "Meet me", always making me feel like I was there with her, not someone who just wandered in by myself. She made me part of the group. The women she introduced me to in those first few months are today, 7 years later, my best friends.

Like any major change, going from working mom to stay at home mom is not an easy transition. Even after meeting G, it took considerable effort on my part. Every mom knows the challenges of just getting out of the door with a kid, and how sometimes it's just easier to stay at home. Getting everyone dressed, fed, changed, snacks packed, strollers, jackets...the endless list of items required for travel with a young child. But I had to do it, or I'd spend my days in the basement playroom playing Candyland and eating fruit snacks.

My best advice to moms making the switch - meet other moms. Whether it be through a MOPS organization or a church playgroup, hanging by the pool or at library storytime. Search out events and go, even when you don't think you want to. Invest in personal calling cards and hand them out liberally. Embrace being "just a mom", and recognize all the rewards that come with it. And if you're a seasoned stay at home mom and you see a woman at the park looking lonely and lost, go introduce yourself. You might be just the friend she needs.