Sorry... You're Not Invited

Okay so I started off the day in a bad mood.  I woke up with a sigh and a groan when I realized that it was only Thursday.  That I had a full day of carting the kids around plus preschool to deal with.  I had a day full of preparing meals that would not be eaten and picking up toys that had been cast aside.  And it was cloudy and cold and snowy.  Again.

I tried my best to put on a brave face, not be too scary in front of my kids.  Once I had a cup pot of coffee in my belly and my brain began to defog, we ended up having a relaxing morning full of snuggles and play-doh and cartoons.  Before I knew it my spirits had been elevated significantly (especially once I had my daughter dressed and her hair styled in pig tails.  The sight of her glossy, curly, bouncy pig tails always makes me feel better), and soon enough we were off to preschool.

I was helping Joshua find his shoes in the shoe bin, digging among dozens of similarly hued super-hero decorated rubber lumps (an impossible task at the best of times) when a dad came in with his son and a stack of little white envelopes.  I presumed they were party invitations, and the dad began to sort them out into the children's individual mail boxes.  As I continued my quest to find Joshua's shoes (I had found one Batman shoe at this point) I slowly began to realize that the stack of envelopes wasn't very thick.  Some mail boxes were being skipped.  And Joshua's was among them.

My heart dropped.  It was so unexpected.  I was gearing up to snatch the envelope from his little mail box and show him and say "Joshua!  You've got mail, buddy!" and then watch his little face as he struggled to rip open the envelope to reveal a party invite inside.  I was going to RSVP on the spot and write it into our family calendar later.  It would be a little highpoint in our day.  Joshua LOVES parties.

But, this was not to be.  Soon the dad was standing back, helping his son put on his shoes (more easily found than Joshua's, apparently) and waiting for the doors of the school to be opened and for the teachers to begin welcoming the children.  I bit my lip and found Joshua's other shoe, helped him put them on and stood back to wait as well.  Honestly?  I was fighting back tears.

Now yes I realize that EVERYONE cannot be invited to EVERYTHING.  I know.  I get it.  But the culture at our preschool is that typically you invite everyone from your particular "class".  One typically invites all the kids from Tuesday afternoons to your party.  Or all the kids from the days you attend, so Joshua would invite all of the children from Tuesday and Thursday afternoons.  That way, if the kids are talking about the party before or after, it's a party ALL of the children are invited to, not just a select few.  If only a few kids are able to be invited to a party for some reason or other, then the invitations are usually done more discreetly, by email or quiet parking-lot invitations.  Most parents make it a point to be sneaky if every child is not included.  Joshua had a little pre-Christmas party at the house and we had invited only four children, to keep things small and fun.  I did not flaunt this in front of the other children!  No!  I sent little emails inviting a few kids and kept it on the down-low.  We were cool about it.  I took photos and Facebooked about it.  I sent the parents a photo montage of their child's activities from the party.  It was awesome.

As I said goodbye to Joshua and led Claire out of the building I began to feel so sad, so heartbroken on his behalf.  I knew full well that Joshua would probably never realize what was happening.  That he'd probably never put 2 and 2 together and figure out that he was among the non-invited.  But still for me this was a bitter pill to swallow;  it was the first time Joshua had been excluded by one of his friends!  How DARE the parents do this to my child?  My child who had invited THEIR child to HIS parties (including his exclusive pre-Christmas party)!

I know that I was projecting my past rejections onto the situation.  That all in all it's probably a blessing we weren't invited.  Truth be told kid parties are a pain.  They take up an entire Saturday.  You've got to buy a present, then forget to wrap it until you're nearly out the door, and oh crap we forgot a card quick let's make one!  It's a hassle.  But for me at that moment in that day, it wasn't Joshua who was being left out...  it was ME being rejected.

I was suddenly thrown back into Grade 8.  None of the cool kids invited me to their parties.  No boys asked me "out" on a "date".  The girls who had agreed to be on my lunchtime volleyball team had suddenly shut me out and I had been replaced all too easily.  The friend who had promised to meet me at the mall went there with someone else instead.  My brother was too cool to be my friend anymore.  My size 38 jeans were tight and my glasses smudged.  I was unwanted.  Unpopular.  Left behind.  Left out.  Alone.

So yes.  I was making the matter worse and bigger in my head than it actually was.  I knew this.  It's something I do quite frequently, after all.

But I also knew that it was the beginning of little social struggles and slights that Joshua would encounter in his life.  And I HATED it.  I hated that it had to begin at all.  That he would have to feel rejection and the sting of being left out.  His heart would be broken over and over again.  He will get into a fight with his best friend and cry.  He will ask a girl to the dance and she will say no.  He will be uninvited to parties and stuck home with us and will be very very mad about the whole situation.  He will think the world is a terrible and awful place.  Here it is - the beginning of a lifetime of hurt had begun, right in front of my eyes.  Beginning with a father's stack of little white envelopes.

I had never come so close to punching a grown man in the face before in all my life.  If he hadn't been carrying his infant I may have at least tripped him.

How did we get here?  I mean one minute he was born, and EVERYONE loved him.  Everyone wanted to hold him and change his diaper and rock him.  Everyone wanted to feed him and burp him and play with him.  And now he's being EXCLUDED from stuff?  The whole idea makes my head spin.  Not to mention the fact that he's the coolest and funniest kid in town and really we should be charging people for Joshua to make an appearance at their lame parties.

But I suppose there are lessons to be learned here.  I will grudgingly admit that.  I know my own struggles in high school taught me a lot.  It allowed me to observe, from a distance, how people behave.  How one minute someone can be your best friend, that is until a better offer comes along.  How fickle girls can be, and how offhand boys can be.  How that it can be okay to be left out, and that being alone isn't all that bad.  I learned how to reinvent myself.  To overcome personal struggles and be my own girl.  To take lightly the popularity I found years later when my jeans were smaller and my smudgey glasses had been replaced by contact lenses.  It did give me valuable perspective.  And a sense of humor about life.

Hopefully I can use that experience to help Joshua as he grows, too.  Though I know nothing can save him from feeling the pain of heartbreak and loneliness, perhaps I can sympathize with him and tell him funny stories of when I was left out, too.   Hopefully his sense of self and humor will carry him through those situations with laughter instead of tears.  Hopefully he will be better at this whole concept of "growing up" than I ever was, or will be.

As I drove away from preschool with silly tears on my cheeks I took a look in my rearview mirror and took in the sight of my beautiful daughter, colouring in the backseat as we drove.  Happy, smiling, content.  I counted the months in my head that I have with her until she, too, will start preschool and at the same time develop her own tiny social sphere complete with joy, friends, parties.

The lump in my throat stayed all day.

-TDW

My Facebook Addiction, Explained

I'm a chronic Facebooker.  I freely and willingly (almost, dare I say, proudly?) admit it.  I love it!  It's one of the first things I check when I wake up in the morning, and one of the last things I check before I go to bed.  I wonder what I did with my time before it was invented.  Ah, yes.  Facebook.  If I were forced at gunpoint to get a tattoo (the only scenario in which I'd ever get a tattoo, for the record)?  I'd choose the classic Facebook thumbs up icon.  It would be located on a buttock.

At first, Facebook was an easy way for me to share photos of my children with their grandparents, all four of whom live 5000 kilometres away on the other side of this ridiculously spread-out country of ours (Oh...  CANADA!).  Then, I began to reunite with old friends and classmates and establish fresh relationships with new friends and coworkers.  Next it became an easy way to plan get-togethers and parties.  Finally it became my one-stop shop for posting comments, feelings, facts, opinions, photos, recipes, photos of recipes, likes, smiles, announcements, encouragement, jokes, life-events, and snubs.  I check out places, check in to places, ask about places, look at photos of places.  It is versatile!  Ever-changing!  Fun!

Now I know there are judge-y people out there.  People who roll their eyes at my frequent-Facebooking.  They say to themselves "Really!  No one CARES what you are having for supper tonight!" and "Doesn't she have anything BETTER to do?".  The truth of the matter is that yes, I DO in fact have better things I could be doing.  Teaching my children mandarin.  Cleaning walls.  Taking inventory of my deep freezer.  Using my mini-donut maker that my darling husband gave me for Christmas that I haven't even tried yet (shame, shame!).  But, the truth of the matter is that when it comes to choosing one activity over another?  Facebook always wins.

You may ask, Why?  Why Momma Sue?  You're so personable and witty and stylish!  Why do you bury your head in your computer instead of seeking out real activity with real people?

The answer boils down to pretty much one thing:  Loneliness.

Yep.  There you have it.  I'm lonely.  Or, at least I would be if it weren't for Facebook.  You see, dear devoted readers, I am a stay-at-home Mom of two.  It's THEIR lives that determine my schedule, not my desire to see and interact with the world.  If my kids have gymnastics, then off to gymnastics we go, where I MAY exchange a sentence or two with the coaches before we're thrown into an intense (albeit, fun) 55 minutes of padded flip-floppy fun!  If my son has preschool, then the entire day is geared toward making sure he's up early to eat breakfast, then some good wholesome fun, then some lunch, then the 20 minute drive to school, then killing 3.5 hours, then being there on time for his pickup.  If my daughter needs to nap by 3:00pm at the latest then it's me driving down the highway toward home at maximum speed at 2:55pm, already sweating a little because I already know this will throw her off schedule at bedtime.  How do you swing spa time and dark-brewed coffee dates around that chaos, especially with a complex and glamorous 2 year old girl and a rowdy and inquisitive 4 year old in tow?  (Spoiler alert - you don't.)

When I became a new mother back in 2008, I quickly realized what a lonely existence it can be to be a stay-at-home Mama, especially with an equally busy husband (who at the time was finishing residency/at the bottom of the medical totem pole).  Sure I got out as often as I could, frequented the grocery and children's consignment stores.  I walked when the weather was nice, seeking out the footpaths frequented by those who would be most likely to compliment me on my gorgeous new baby boy (near the retirement home).  But in general?  It was lonely.  He had a schedule he needed and I was damned if I was going to mess with that (you don't mess with the schedule of an 8 week old who sleeps through the night.  You just don't.)  Not a whole lot of interaction or life-sharing from the hours of 8:00am and 5:00pm.  That's when my FB addiction took root and I suppose, grew.  Flourished!

To clarify, though, it's not the same loneliness that (I'm assuming) people who peruse the free personal ads on Kijiji are feeling.  It's the kind of loneliness that is new to me, since becoming a parent.  It's the sensation of wanting to share each and every moment that I experience with my children, with EVERYONE else, too.

Let me explain.

You see my kids are amazing and are the most beautiful, intelligent, radiant, creative, and funny creatures I've ever set my eyes upon.  EVER.  And, raising them by myself during the day Monday thru Friday, I just find it a damn damn SHAME that people are missing out on their lives (whether or not these people actually feel they are missing out on something, that is left to be discovered).  So, when Claire says something unknowingly funny, or Joshua puts his underwear on his head, I feel this keen sense of loss and alone-ness that no one was here to experience that with me.  So what's the first thing I do?  Post it!  Update my status about it!  Take a photo and upload it and add a funny title for it!  That way?  Others can "experience" these things with me, in a sense, and the memory is somewhat shared and captured.  I feel giddy that others get to "be here" for it, too.  See?

Oh sure I COULD pick up the phone and talk to someone about these things, but in the chaos that is my life a phone call often gets interrupted by shouts and screams and pee on the carpet and markers that won't open and "I'm thirsty!" and "I'm hungry!" and "She's TOUCHING ME!".  You know.  Those sorts of distractions.  Plus a phone doesn't give that person a photo of the event.  It also only reaches ONE person.  Facebook?  Hundreds.  Bam.  Photos included.  Bam bam.  Witty comment no extra charge.  Bam bam bam.

Also?  I kinda enjoy a little attention myself.  There!  I said it... ARE YOU HAPPY?  When I bake something cool in the kitchen with the kids, or pull off a complex dinnertime recipe, or make an awesome craft with the kids, or organize the crap out of something in the house, sure I love to post a few (dozen) photos of what I did, to get a few kudos.  Makes me feel good.  Now is that so WRONG?  I mean aren't there WORSE things?  Cut me some slack.

I guess I love the sensation that the things I'm doing can be shared with the people in my life that are too busy to PHYSICALLY be here with me.  After all, I'm told other people have lives.  So when I open up Facebook and see that people have "liked" the photos and commented on the posts I've created, it (mostly) feels great.  Yes, there are haters and criticizers of EVERYTHING.  Those people who rarely if ever have anything good to say about anything.  But even those comments I enjoy...  they make me think.  They make me ask "Why is that comment making my blood boil!?".  They are excellent conversation-starters for chats my husband and I have after the kids are in bed.

We don't have family living nearby who are able to stop in and see the kids and share the daily hum-drum with me, or taste my latest batch of home cookin' and tell me that it's even BETTER than the last batch.  We don't live in a era where friends "stop in", which I have to admit is a mixed blessing - no one needs to see Momma Sue without her Avon thickly applied.  Plus I'd probably be too busy or elbow deep in a diaper to hear the doorbell.

But?  Facebook?  It makes me feel less apart from friends and family and the people I care about.  It relieves some of the feeling of being "alone".  It's my addiction, my dirty little not-so-secret.  It interrupted the writing of this blog at LEAST 20 times.  But I'm okay with that.  I hope you can respect and even "Like" that part of me, too.

-TDW