Nice to meet you, where you been?

It's very bizarre.

In the last six months, I've had two people get back in touch with me after years of silence. The first, right around Christmas, after 22 years. And then this past Sunday after ten.

And I don't really understand it.

I mean sure, it's kind of interesting to "catch up" but they both started off as if we could pick up right where we were. As if they didn't ghost me with no explanation, leaving a big hole in my self-worth. And, to be fair, maybe they don't understand just how profoundly their behavior impacted me. I'm sure it's more about me than them. I don't imagine normal people lose friends and think it's because they're supremely un-friendable.

But my life certainly seems to support that as a definition for me. I joke that hubby makes friends and I lose them for us. Because all the dead friendships have certainly pointed their fingers at me as the sole problem.

Sure, you can spout that it "takes two to tango" or whatever, but of the "two", I'm the only one who is ever made to bear the responsibility.

Thus, I pretty much stand by the idea at this point that there is zero point in trying to have friends anymore. I'm...well, I'm not content. That would be a lie to say that. I'm resigned to it. 

I don't mind being someone's friend. I think I do a pretty good job of that, honestly, for as long as it's allowed. But I have given up on any of them actually returning the favor in the unconditional way that I friend. And as such, I am definitely more reserved when it comes to sharing. Because the part that hurts the most when the inevitable occurs is the destruction of trust. The fact that I trusted these people with the parts of me reserved for friends and they were not worthy of it. Worse, they didn't care. They didn't see it as something worth caring about.

So yeah. Both of these former friends are probably disgruntled with my responses to their overtures. If the situation was reversed, I know I would be. But at the same time? I kind of feel "fool me once" needs to be in play. Because as much as I'd like to say I'm older and wiser and wouldn't be as bothered by another collapse, I know that for a lie.

And at this point in my life, I value my heart more than the nebulous idea of a real friend.

Happy New Year!

We had a laid-back New Year's Eve.

Laid-back seems to be the theme of these days, and honestly? I'm good with it.

Church in the morning was bittersweet. It was the final sermon of our current pastor, who is retiring to go be, effectively, an itinerant pastor--filling in here and there for a week or two at a time as needed. His sermons were a huge part of what we love about our church, and honestly, with the rest of the shenanigans that went on there in 2022-2023, him leaving feels like that final straw.

Of course, eldest is still very involved and most of his friend group is there, so I doubt heavily that we'll actually look for another place. But church is no longer a place I look forward to going, and that is sad.

The new pastor is fine. He hasn't been here long - he came as the "outreach" pastor maybe two years ago? Three? Something like that. (For all I know, it's been five and I just have no concept of time, but I feel like it was toward the end of covid, so 2 or 3 feels right.) The times he's preached have been...fine. But he's young and his sermons reflect that. They aren't deep and thought provoking. And maybe with time he'll grow into a fraction of what the exiting pastor was, but honestly? I'll be surprised if he does. Pleasantly surprised, but still surprised.

Of course, that means we'll need to hire a new outreach pastor to do...whatever it is we pay that person to do. From my perspective, that seems to be greet people on Sunday morning, but maybe there's more to it than that.

Anyway, I digress.

We headed to friends' around 7 and spent until about 10, when it was clear youngest needed to get to bed, hanging out and chatting. It was lovely, even if the group was about half of what it "should" have been. One couple took the opportunity to say they weren't going to be continuing with our small group on Sunday nights anymore but hoped to still do the hangouts. I told hubby in the car on the way home that I'd called it (I had) and he laughed. Because he'd said I was being pessimistic. And sure, I was. But I'd venture to say pessimism is rarely wrong.

Still, at home, we managed to make it to 12:02, at which point I called it and we headed to bed.

And now, we embark on 2024 and whatever it is God has in store for us in the days, weeks, and months ahead.

Unrealistic Expectations

I suspect, and honestly have suspected for a while, that if I was growing up today I would probably have some kind of label stuck on me. Asperger's, maybe. Although I guess they don't use that today because reasons. Maybe not.

Whatever it is, I am finally at the point where I recognize that my ability to make and maintain relationships suffers drastically from unrealistic expectations.

I expect that people I call "friend" will treat me the same way I treat them.

And, inevitably, they do not.

I realize that in life there are shades--a spectrum, I guess--of friendship. But it's hard for me to quantify that with my own relationships. To me, it's much more black and white. On or off. Friend. Or Not Friend.

Which, inevitably, means that I miss the signal that what was once a "close friendship" has run its course and is now moving to "acquaintance-ship" or even "really trying to cut ties with you, get the hint lady."

And so, also inevitably, when it finally sinks in I am hurt. And frustrated. And seriously questioning the point of even trying. Because really, if no one did something to the other to cause a problem, why? (Then again, this being me, it's possible I did something and no one has bothered to say anything to me because ...I don't know. I'm not worth the effort?)

I'm just so tired of it.

And now, with the added weight of parenting, I can't even go on a "people aren't worth it" kick, because as Mom, I'm supposed to be encouraging friendships. Suggesting that it's good to get out there and meet people and get to know them. And it's hard because...I'm basically lying to them. What I want to say is "Learn how to be alone! Be content with one, maybe two people in your life who matter. Because more than that just leads to heartache."

But I think that's called trauma dumping. Or something. So I smile. And I lie. And I hope that maybe for them it'll be different.

But they're weird, too. Which means more than likely? It won't be.

On Blasts from the Past

Yesterday, I got an email letting me know that an old friend from high school had messaged me on Linkedin.

"Linkedin?" I thought to myself. "I haven't done anything over there in literal ages."

But, since I hadn't talked with said friend for just about twenty years (which is admittedly not as long as we've been out of high school -- there was a disagreement about the amazingness of Ayn Rand, if I recall, that was the final straw of our friendship. He was pro. I was not. I still am not.), curiosity won out and I dredged up my login credentials to check it out.

We've had a few little back-and-forth comments now.

I have numerous thoughts, but really, they can be summarized by the flitting thought that occurred when I scrolled to my "kindred spirits" category for this post: I don't use that often. Or for long.

And really, what more needs to be said?

The friends we considered family who tac nuked our friendship over adoption really did a number on me. And I just...no longer see the point, really, in trying when it comes to friendship. Because it'll be fine for a while and then, ultimately, it'll be my fault when things go tits up. (Because everyone always agrees that it's only my fault despite that old thing about needing two to tango. That is only not true when I'm involved, I guess.)

And ...I just don't have the energy for the inevitable end.

So why start?

If he keeps replying, then I will as well, but I'll admit I don't have high hopes. When it comes to friendship, there are no mobile rubber tree plants in my world.

Fun in the Sun

Family friends invested in a large (like adults could use it) inflatable (eg powered by a blower) water slide/climbing type thing. They've been inviting us over to partake once or twice a week. Today was one of those days.

It was a good day for it, too, as I believe the technical term for the temperature right now is f'n hot. Of course, grownups did not partake, we sat in the shade of the pergola and wished for a breeze while we drank gallons of water, but still. The kids had a ball and that's really the most important thing.

(Coupled with the fact that they were having a ball outside, away from all screens. That's a double or triple bonus on days when all I want to do is lie on top of an AC vent under a fan.)

Of course now we're home and they're plugged back in bc I am exhausted and trying to make sure I get something done having lolled the day away while they played.

But hey. It's summer.

More Perils of Social Media

Oh, FB. How I sometimes enjoy the prospect of keeping in touch with friends from college and high school.

And how I also sometimes loathe it.

Currently, one of hubby's best friends from college (indeed, he was the best man at our wedding) is on vacation in DC with his family. We haven't seen him in lo these many years (honestly, I believe the last time hubs saw him was when eldest was a wee lad - less than a year - and hubs plus best man plus two other college friends/dormmates met in the middle to camp for a week. So it's been ten years at least for hubs, and longer than that for me. Maybe fifteen?)

Did we know he'd be in the area? No. No we did not.

How did we find out? Pictures on FB.

So I chanced to comment along the lines of oh hey, you're in the area?! We'd love to meet you somewhere for supper - name the day/time/place that's convenient and we'll make it happen.

Crickets ensued.

Well that and more photos of them tromping around the area. Even wandering out to the Udvar-Hazy Air and Space annex which is - for this area at least - an easy and reasonable jaunt for us. (Let alone some place that we not only frequent somewhat often but never have to convince the kids that it'll be fun. They love it there. So it'd be an easy sell.)

But okay. Whatever.

I get that vacations aren't always for seeing old friends (except I can't for the life of me think of an occurrence when, were I on vacation somewhere even remotely near where someone I know and enjoy lived, that I wouldn't reach out and say "Hey, I'm going to be near you on X and Y day - any chance of coffee or lunch or dinner?" And sure, if they're busy, no harm no foul, but I would always ask. Preemptively, even.)

Hubby, as he always does, is rolling with it. Because I'm fairly certain someone could chop off one of his limbs and he'd find a way to assume they didn't mean to do it.

I am working very hard to not go in and delete them off my Christmas letter list. Because come the freak on. It's not like we were passing acquaintances. Best. Man. In. Our. Wedding.

And deep breath.

Moving on.

But if we end up near Chicago on vacay? I'm not calling them. On that point I am 100% crystal clear.

Over. It.

So Saturday was our Awana Grand Prix (think pinewood derby).

Friday night, hubs and I went to set up and decided to take the kids along because it shouldn't take too long to do, after all, this was our third year flying solo and we should have it down.

Hahahahahahaaaa.

We have to wait until a Friday night program finishes, so we got there at 8:30 and got going. The track went together well enough, the kids were hanging in if a bit whiny (because past bedtime for one of them). So I grab my laptop and start testing the software just to be sure it's all good.

Yeah. It was not all good.

The driver for the cable that attaches to the electric eye (that tracks when a car goes over it and stops the timer) is now so old that it simply won't run. And there are no updates. We futzed around with it and all sorts of backward compatibility modes etc until 11 p.m.

Eleven. P.M.

The kids were exhausted. I was exhausted. Hubby was just getting his second wind because he's a night person, but in the morning, he was exhausted.

With sick dread in my belly, I went to bed.

Saturday morning, just for grins, I tried the cable again but no dice. So okay. Fine. Whatever. We'd score manually and it'd be fine. Ish.

The races went smoothly enough except for one race when a little girls comes up and says, "Mrs. Sleepy! You sent my sister's car down backwards!"

Well, no one told me there was a preferred way to go, and I put the tape with the number on what I determined to be the rear based on the length of wood in front of the axle. (Per the instructions that come with the wood blocks - which we use as our "rules" - the longer length is the front.) So I said this. Dad says no, the unicorn goes in front. I say okay but it's backward, just fyi. I get hubby to flip the car around. Dad looks ticked, but I don't really understand why since we flipped the flipping car. Even though technically I don't think we should have. But whatever.

Kid went on to win one of the places (can't remember which), so I think all should be fine.

Yeah, all is not fine.

I find out tonight at Awana when talking to his wife that they are never coming back to the church on Sunday morning because of it. And she goes into this litany of how I did everything wrong when the situation arose.

Did I mention this is a family who, until this evening, I would've said we were good friends with? Cause yeah, eldest boy is good friends with their same-aged kid. Youngest boy is good friends with their same-aged-as him kid AND their youngest. But since I am, apparently, the devil, that's now out the window.

I fucking give up, if you'll pardon the French.

Seriously, I question why God thought making me was a good idea. I'm CLEARLY not fit to be around human kind. If one goes with the general consensus, the world would be a considerably better place without me in it.

I'm just so over it - everything is always 100% my fault. How I got to be so special that I only encounter perfect people who don't contribute to problems, I'll never know.

And yes, from know on, the "Kindred Spirits" label will be used ironically. Because if I've learned anything it's that there is no such thing when one comes to me.

Hilarious Irony

You remember the meal train madness for my friend recovering for surgery? (Scroll down a bit if you don't.) Remember how I lamented that when I would have warmly welcomed meals when we had newborns no one even offered? Well, with mom's passing, they offered. I declined.

See, it's the little things in a day that get me through right now. Knowing I'll have 30ish minutes in the kitchen doing something completely normal every evening is something I've started to look forward to. Because I can focus on that and not the aching hole in my chest.

Still they offered again.

I declined. Again. Politely even.

Offer. Decline. Offer. Decline.

Seriously, please stop offering. I get that their hearts are in the right place and that they mean well, but please don't take away the one normal thing that remains untouched in my life right now.

Two people have dropped off meals this week, usually with explanations that go something like this, "I know you said you didn't want them, but I'm Southern, this is what we do."

SO many things that I could say. (And did, internally. Externally I believe I managed to grimace and say thank you.)

But it got me thinking that there's some element here that, applied on a larger scale, is exactly what's responsible for whatever element of "rape culture" we have. Because you know what? No means no. Whether you're talking about touching someone or bringing them a meal. If we are not at a place where we will respect the stated wishes of another person, regardless of how we feel about their stated wishes, then we've lost our grip on a big part of what it means to live in community.

No means no.

(And of course I understand that an unwanted meal is not the same thing as sexual assault, but the root of the issue is. They wanted to do something that I did not want and they did it anyway because "It's just what they do.")

Because I am a glutton for punishment

This evening, they're starting a new women's Bible study at church. Eldest has decided he'd like to begin attending the Wednesday night activities for his age group. Lots of his friends go, so why not? Even living relatively close to church, it doesn't make a ton of sense to drive home after dropping him off. So I'll be attempting the Bible study.

I'll admit to a serious case of trepidation. First, because I don't know if the woman who despises me is going to be there. She brings her kids to Wednesday night as well. My plan is to simply turn around and leave if I spy her in the classroom.

Second? We all know I'm a blight on humanity who ought not be allowed to live. Or so I'm absolutely led to believe by said woman who hates me (who I used to think was a friend, more fool me.) And really, it isn't as if she and her husband are the first to make this classification. Honestly, if I'd been paying more attention for roughly my whole life, I probably would have pieced it together sooner. But alas.

Still, it would be nice to have the level of relationship with a real life person or two that I could pretend was friendship, even though again, we all know if there's an issue it will be 100% my fault. Because that "takes two to tango" thing doesn't apply if I'm one of the involved parties. (See also empathy and attempts to see another point of view.) So I'm not actually expecting friendship, I've accepted that I'm not capable of this.

But I do like the book of Ephesians. So really, a chance to study it is always worthwhile, even if it means dipping a toe back into the pirahana-filled  pool of "friendship."

Probably.

That is the sound of inevitability*

I'm beginning to realize that there comes a point in life where one simply has to recognize that they are not the sort of person with whom other people are going to be friends for the long term. I'd like to say there's something freeing in that realization, but there isn't. In fact, it pretty much sucks. But, none the less, there it is.

Still trying to decide what to do with this information as far as making/maintaining what "friendships" I currently possess. Because honestly? There's a big haze of what the F is the point hovering over it all. When you know that, ultimately, it's going to go down in a flaming ball of poo--and oh by the way it'll be completely your fault and the other parties will always be 100% innocent, just ask them!--why try?

At the same time, I'm stuck trying to put a happy face on it all and convince my children that no, those mean kids at the play date/wherever we encountered them aren't the norm and really, there are good people out there in the world if you look. What a liar I've become. The reality that I'd like to explain to my kids? You may end up having friends, but don't put a lot of stock in them, because at their tiniest whim even grown adults turn into middle school girls and they will destroy you, light the remains on fire, and walk away whistling and telling everyone else they encounter that you brought it on yourself.

It amuses me that I have a category labeled Kindred Spirits. Clearly I was a lot more optimistic when I started this blog. Because I have firmly, 100% relegated that idea to the realm of fiction. My book friends? They're the only ones that stick around.

*spot the quote

Virtual Friends Are Like Dead Puppies

Which is to say, not much fun.

It's that time of year when everyone is getting together with all their friends and sharing photos of the gatherings and tagging one another to talk about how awesome everyone is and...I am Charlie Brown.

I have friends - a small handful of them - they just don't happen to live anywhere near me. The closest is about 30 minutes away, which would be totally doable if she didn't have six kids ranging from 16 to 5 and a mixture of homeschooled and private schooled. Throw in that the ones closest to my kids ages are in the private school end of things and...we never see each other.

My friend who lived just a few minutes away moved to Georgia last year. I hate Georgia.

And they  just get farther away from there.

It's annoying and causes entirely too much self-pitying boo-hooing. But hey, that's why they invented blogging, isn't it?

Mawwiage is what bwings us togevver today

This weekend, the hubs and I took off to the wedding of a friend. Seeing as how we both moved up a notch in the old age-bracket tic boxes this past year, the days of wedding attendance have been rather long gone. It's been at least five years and that was one of hubby's younger cousins and doesn't count, really. (Family weddings are a different thing than friend weddings. I can't explain it, it's just the way it is.)

Regardless, having been on the inside of a few conversations about the outlandish amount of money our friend and his fiance were spending on this shindig, I have to say now on the other side of the event that either saner heads prevailed and they really scaled back from what they said they were spending or I have no idea where the money went.

Last I heard, the general bill was going to be in the area of $60K (Plus or minus a bit here or there.) I'll wait until you can breathe again, cause if you're like us, you choked and nearly died when you read that. But other than the sit-down dinner with filet as an option, I don't know where it went. There were essentially zero flowers at the church. The bouquets were long stemmed roses tied with a 2" ribbon that I hope they made themselves because really...why would you pay a florist what a florist charges to do something so simple it's not even worth a Pinterest pin? There were a few centerpieces at the reception but nothing to write home about. And so it goes.

What really struck me about this thing though wasn't the quandary of the money, it was the fact that ceremony itself was roughly 20 minutes long. And I'm being kind and rounding up. And then there was a two hour break before the cocktail hour at the reception venue. That went on for an hour (seriously, they were militant about it being a cocktail HOUR despite the fact that everyone, bride and groom included, was there at the start of the thing). Then dinner for two hours (and why, WHY would you do your first dance before feeding your guests? Just feed us already, then do your dancing.) And at that point, we'd been away from home for close to six hours so we called it and left. Before the cake. I have no idea what time they finally got around to the cake.

Honestly, if you're planning on making your wedding an event that lasts more than maybe 3 hours, you need to state that pretty clearly on your invitation so people can make informed choices about attending. Especially when you make it a no kids event. (I don't get the no kids thing, I really don't. To me, weddings are about family, so kids should absolutely be there. Throw in the fact that you just asked someone to shell out $120 to a babysitter because you decided you needed to stretch your event out for a full freaking day and, well, I feel a lot less bad about the fact that I didn't shop off your million dollar registry.)

So congrats to my friend, but next time I seriously may just send a card and be done with it. Cause wow.

On Social Nicities

For the record, the next time someone says to me "Oh, we should definitely do that!" (or get together or what have you) I am going to smile, nod, and say, "Sounds good."

The correct interpretation of "Sounds good" is "Yeah, sure. I won't hold my breath."

I'm so tired of people seeming to think that making a statement like that (Oh, we'll get together soon! I'll call you!) is somehow polite. You have no intention of calling me. I have no intention of answering the phone should you actually decide that you should be a woman of your word. (Because really, when you say I will do x and then don't? You're breaking your word. Own it.) And really, we're not friends. Don't try to act like we are with your fake little smiles and polite intentions.

That is all.

(BTW, this is not aimed at anyone who knows me personally and actually reads this blog. I get being busy and things falling to the side and hey, sometimes that happens. But there's a difference between having a friendship and being social not-even-quite-acquaintainces. It's the latter I'm sick of.)

I Absolutely Think This Post Is About Me*

It came to my attention a few weeks ago that my 20th high school reunion is on the horizon. My first response was, "What? Not possible. After all, I'm only 25." Then I had to remember that, in fact, I am not 25 but considerably older than that and, yes, I have officially been out of high school for 20 years. My second response was: crap.

I did not go to our 10 year reunion. I'm not even sure we had a 15 year reunion, so obviously didn't attend if there was one. And now...now I think I might just like to go, except for the whole I-looked-awesome-in-high-school-and-now-look-exactly-the-opposite-of-awesome thing. I'd try to take comfort in the idea that a lot of my classmates have all put on the pounds as well, except, looking at the photos of them on facebook...not so much.

See, I didn't have a ton of friends in high school. I was definitely part of the weird crowd (which is saying something when you go to a school that sucks the weird people out of the high schools in the three surrounding counties and busses  them in). I also tended to have more friends that were either the year ahead or behind me. So I'm not really sure why I am even tempted to go to the 20th reunion. Before Facebook, I kept up with the few people who mattered. Now, with Facebook, I am at least getting a peek into the lives of several other acquaintances, and really, most of my curiosity is assuaged.

But I'm also wondering if your 20th reunion is kind of like prom: if you don't go, you'll end up regretting it somewhere down the line. (That said, I went to prom. Given the experience, I'm not sure I would regret not having gone. Though I guess having the information to say that is better than wondering about it.)

Anyway, they sent out a survey to everyone asking for votes on a reunion date. I'm hoping everyone else also chose the one that coincides with Homecoming - cause that gives me a much better chance of at least not being roughly equivalent in size to an orca when the date rolls around. (Honestly, I'll settle for walrus sized. That'll be less embarrassing. I know I won't ever get back to the size 6/8 I wore back then, and I'm really ok with that. I'd just prefer to be down on the lower end of the double digits.)

What amuses me most is that in 99% of my life, I am incredibly intrinsically motivated. But with weight loss, it seems to be only extrinsic motivation that will actually override the joy of something sweet or bready melting across my tongue. (Cause with my body, the only way weight goes away is to get rid of carbs...and I love carbs.) That said, after a little bit of realistic figuring, I can, if I am diligent, be at a non-embarrassing weight by the later date. This is encouraging (because really there's nothing worse than realizing you finally have something that will continue to motivate you to lose weight but it's so close that there's no realistic way to actually meet that goal). I'm already down 2 pounds (yeah, I know, big woo, but hey, they add up.) 

Vanity? Absolutely.
(*it's a riff on a song. You'll figure it out.)

A Lovely Spring Morning

I was up for a large part of last night feeling inadequate as a mother. (Here is where my mom rolls her eyes and thinks to herself that I need to just get over it.) There are a million little things, none of which in the bright light of day really make all that much sense, but in the middle of the night they loom large. This morning, we packed up and headed down to a friend's house.

Talking with my friend was just the antidote, because she's the first to admit that she doesn't ever feel like she has it all together, and that she has the same niggling doubts and fears that strike her. And while yeah, the end result is suck it up and move on, it's nice to know that it's normal - and that it's not going to ruin the kids (her kids are all lovely - I mean, they have their days like any kid, but they're good kids.) We don't get to see her all that often as she lives about an hour away, but she has six kids (one who is exactly the older boy's age) and they all play wonderfully with one another and are quick to absorb the elder boy into their fun.

When we got there, we headed to their neighborhood park. The two older of her boys elected to stay home and enjoy the quiet, so it was just the 5 younger kids (6 and under) and the two of us. They boys all played well, running hither and yon as we had the playground to ourselves. So the two of us got to sit and chat while the baby slept in his stroller nearby.

One of the things that was bothering me last night is the lack of close by friends for the elder boy. Hanging out with her helped me remember that having a few good friends who you see occasionally is sometimes better than having a lot of people you see all the time who aren't really friends when push comes to shove. Hopefully that's a lesson the boys can learn without too much pain.

Friends, Acquaintances, and In-Between

A friend sent me an email a few weeks ago asking if she could have a baby shower for me once the new baby is home. I thought it was a lovely thought, but my initial response was no thank you. I mean, do people do showers for 2nd (and onward) kids? Asking her about that, she said absolutely and that every baby deserves to be celebrated. I get that - but I still feel like I'm gift grubbing. Regardless, she talked me into it (she's a very persistent person.)

Next up was a request for who to invite. After a ton of thought, I was able to come up with about six names. Some people I would love to invite live too far away. But the reality of it is that I just don't have a ton of what I consider friends (of those six, I would say there are 2 that I'm inviting because I'm inviting the other ladies from our Sunday school class and I don't want them to feel excluded, even if I really don't care one way or the other if they come. They're definitely acquaintances - and not great ones at that.)

I kicked around the idea of inviting several people I'm "friends" with on Facebook, but at the end of the day, I couldn't decide if they would think they really knew me well enough to be invited to such a thing. Plus, it seems to me that there's some hint of obligation attached to a shower invite (as with a birthday party) to bring a gift...and I just don't think there's any possibility that these ladies would want to do that. Plus they don't know any of the others who would be there, unless I invited more people from MOPS, and, well, I really don't want to start digging into that whole MOPS group dynamic.

At the end of the day, I realized that I probably have a very skewed and unusual definition of friend. It's probably overly exclusive. On the other hand, I feel like many people use the word friend entirely too casually, putting it in where acquaintance (which I can not seem to spell right the first time to save my life) is really much more accurate. Though really, it's probably more accurate to say that I use friend where family member or best friend should be used, relegating other people who would, likely, be hurt by the knowledge, to acquaintance even though traditional labeling would call them friend.

Which puts me back to wondering if I'm doing a disservice to these ladies by not even thinking that they'd want an invite. I mean, they can always say no and not come, I just hate to put them in the awkward situation of having to figure out why I think they're good enough friends to invite them to something like that when, in reality, I don't...I just didn't have anyone else to ask.

On Middle School

Tuesday I went off to MOPS with nary a care in the world. (Well, maybe not nary a care - I'm a little stressed right now...so perhaps we'll say I was unsuspecting.) And I found myself seemingly transported back to middle school.

I mentioned some of the trouble the kiddo's been having, and so my solution (that appears to be working quite nicely) is to just focus on keeping him rather calm before any events where he has to go to overcrowded child care rooms and remind him as I drop him off to be calm, kind, and gentle. We also have a sticker chart that is a path leading us to an evening in hell at Chuck E Cheese. Good behavior gets stickers. (Ring that bell, Pavlov, ring that bell!)

So, the morning was going swimmingly. He was calm. We were having fun. As we went in, one of the mentor moms says hi, and I said hi. She addressed the kiddo by name and he just ignored her. (He's 3.) I asked if he was going to say hi and he shook his head. She said (with a tone of great portents of doom), "Oh, are you having a bad day?" The implication being clear that the child care workers ought to run and hide right now. I smiled and said that no, we had been having a lovely day so far.

We went on our merry way into the main room and, in an effort to keep him calm, I told the kiddo that no, he could not go and play with one of the older boys who was early because the two of them inevitably wind each other up. The other boy's mom, who I thought was a friend, looked at me and said "It's going to be ok." And I smiled, nodded, and just continued to hold the doodle's hand. He didn't fight it but he did ask again and the other mom glared like I should let him go, so I explained to her that I was just trying to keep him calm and that I knew he fed off her son's energy and would get wound up.

And then she proceeded to get very ugly in a manner reminiscent of middle school.

So I collected my things and we left. So we're finished with MOPS, and frankly, it's kind of a relief. It's always annoyed me somewhat, but I just don't get women. I keep trying to find a group of them to hang out with, and inevitably this happens. I figure it's got to be me, because I really don't think 99% of the world is the part with the problem, but I can't for the life of me figure out what the problem is. On the other hand, life is too short to spend too much time worrying about it.

My friends are all named Ed. They're special.

I have a love/hate relationship with Facebook.

On the one hand, it's a nice way to keep in touch with friends from high school and college and to get a little blip here and there about their lives without having to wait for them (or me) to have enough to put into an actual email and send along.

On the other hand...well, it's Facebook.

On Tim's birthday last year, I put on his wall something along the lines of "Happy birthday, sweetheart." Because it was his birthday and I call him sweetheart much of the time.

Our mutual friends from college all then chimed in with varying degrees of admittedly funny mockery for me having publicly posted something mushy. Or at least semi-mushy. Because honestly, calling my husband sweetheart doesn't really register on the mushy scale to me, but whatever.

Still, it makes me laugh and wonder exactly how I ended up with the weirdo friends in my life, because my other friends? They post seriously over the top mushy things to one another's walls at a near constant rate and the most any of them ever get is a passing "awww."

(Today, for example, I have two friends going back and forth about how they are the luckiest person alive because the other is their spouse and how they love each other and can't wait til the kids are in bed later tonight. If I posted even the first part of that (the lucky part), our friends would be all over it. And yet for these two? Nothing but a few awws and offers to babysit.)

My friends are, apparently, all pretty special.

The RSVP Is Dead (Long Live the RSVP?)

This Saturday, we are supposed to go out with our small group from church to a pumpkin patch in the evening. For the few of us with kids, that means lining up a sitter and so forth, and so I dutifully arranged for said sitter and put it on our calendar and on Sunday when we discussed it at church everyone was kind of "Oh, um, yeah." So we said, "We'll firm it up over email this week."

The email went out Sunday night. Yesterday I shot out another asking if we could get firm yesses from those actually planning on attending.

Radio silence ensues.

Frankly, I'm about ready to just cancel it. Number one, I'm not super gung ho about the idea to start off with. I'll go because it's what everyone wanted to do (or so they said) and ok, fine, it could be fun. But I don't do scary, really, so I'm not sure that a night time corn maze during Halloween is really my speed. Number two, I'm not one of these people who needs nights out with a sitter. Now, I get that it's good to schedule adults only things so that the couples in our small groups don't have to deal with other people's kids all the time - but when you combine the fact that it was a no-kid couple who had the idea for the pumpkin patch as a no-kid activity in the first place...wouldn't you think at least THEY would respond that yes, for sure, they are going?

When did actually responding to an invitation go out of vogue?

On Biting My Tongue

(Note: I realize that blogging about places and times where I've been biting my tongue kind of defeats the purpose of biting my tongue, particularly when some of the people who have said or posted things that have engendered said tongue biting read here. But. Well. Still my blog.)

Biting my tongue (and seriously, with as many times as I just typed tongue, why do I have to retype it for spelling corrections every single time still? Grr. Stupid, strange, word.) has been something of an Olympic sport around here lately. And I seem to have hit my limit. Thus I bring to you a series of mini rants that I felt it was better not to engage in in person.

1)  "Ever since the arrival of your child, I've noticed that the neatness of your living room has slipped below the level I'd come to expect." -- My Father-in-Law

Really? You're going there? I have a 2 year old. I could have a perfectly neat living room if I decided that I wanted to make that my sole mission in life. And we do pick it up every night (he helps) but honestly, it takes him roughly 0.000007 seconds to trash it again in the morning. Do you not watch him? Yes, ideally, he'll learn at some point to put away what he's playing with now when he wants to switch to something else, but I'm guessing that happens somewhere in the 5-7 year old range. Not 2. Also? Have you looked at your house lately? Sure, you have basically no furniture or belongings, but it's still not exactly the pinnacle of cleanliness. Or was this your subtle way of complimenting me on how mellow I am these days? (Which you've said in the past and is, oh yeah, really just a slap at how uptight you think I am.)

2) "Well, if you want to lose weight, all you have to do is eat under 1,500 calories a day and exercise. Maybe you should keep a food journal." -- My Mother-in-Law

Ah, clearly that's it. Pushing aside the fact that you see people with an extra ounce on them as anathema - up to and including that being a sign of unresolved sin in their lives. Though the majority of people out there in the world will never believe that I'm telling the truth (and I realize that my in-laws fall firmly into that camp) - how about you not talk about things about which you know nothing. Like the fact that, oh hey, already have a food journal. And, oh hey, already way under 1500 calories. And oh yeah, also exercising every day. And then there's PCOS which throws all that out the window, as if rendering one infertile wasn't quite insult enough. But then, it just adds fuel to the fire of why you never wanted your son to marry me in the first place.

3) If you have never experienced infertility and all the heart and gut wrenching decisions that go into what kind and how much treatment you are going to do, please withhold judgment about tweaking nature with pharmaceuticals, even if it's prompted by a publicized medical study (that doesn't even look particularly scientific, certainly doesn't look as if it's set up to allow the formation of causal links) and you just thought it was interesting from a "let's noodle this" perspective. For some people, the infinitesimal risk of whatever the flagship cause of the day that may or may not be related to the very first step in infertility treatment that's out there (i.e. ovulation inducing drugs) is worth it. Cause there have been studies since the beginning of it all saying that OIDs increase the risk for Down's, Autism, ADHD, etc. You name it, it's been linked at least tentatively. So really it just adds to the wrenchingness of making the decisions about what you will and won't pursue. And there's nothing conclusive, there aren't any longitudinal studies, there's nothing with large sample sizes that can really lend credibility to causality. So really, other than making men and women who are already facing incredible stress, hardship, and pain even more stressed and pained, I don't really see the point of publishing a study to the greater population (rather than within the research community, which is definitely worthwhile as it can help point people into future research) until it actually has something reasonably conclusive to say.  (And this is the one that I'm most hesitant to rant about, cause I know you read here now and again, and I know you didn't mean anything to be hurtful, but I'm probably not the only person who briefly thought that you don't realize how incredibly blessed you are to have your situation and never have needed fertility intervention even though I know you do know it.)