Awkward Single Mother Seeks Same

As my 5 year old lives the life of every 5 year old in the last semester of Kindergarten, there is a lesson being learned in our house... that making friends is hard. Finding something nice to say, not being scared to talk to someone you don't know, not judging someone because of how they look, not being scared that you're too different, these are hard things for a girl to get her head around. Not being jealous of someone that has nicer things than you, not feeling silly because you walk to school and they go in a car, not worrying that some people look older than you or treat you like a baby... it's not easy for anyone. And by anyone, what I really mean is it's not easy for me.

And my daughter assures me it's easier to make friends after you try for a little while... but I've also seen my daughter eat her own boogers in public. Clearly I'm not trusting her judgment regarding anything socially oriented, and clearly we are up against different types of potential friendships to begin with.

And anyway, I have friends. I have amazing friends-- warm, caring, funny, smart. We all come from sorted pasts in one way or another, we get each other. They adore my daughter, and those that have children know that I adore their as well. And not unlike a 5 year old, I don't want to make friends at the school because I already have friends. Ones I know and have already gotten to know very well based on more than simply the common age of our children.

And if I'm to be really honest about the situation in all of it's immature glory, these women are fancy and married and older. Yes, that's all it boils down to. I can call it class issues or social anxiety or uncertainty of my place in a world of women that embraces a different set of family values and goals... but no, no, it's just this: I'm scared that they'll make fun of me.

I stand like an awkward shy kindergarten student outside of the tiny doors at the end of the day with my phone pressed to my ear chatting with someone or pretending to be busy with the crossword puzzle or some book that states clearly "I am not beneath you, with your husbands and your mini-vans and your tasteful and likely real Coach handbags... to the contrary, I don't talk to you because I'm wrapped up in my own intellectual world, one complex and deep and interesting, that you could never understand. It's not at all because I'm afraid you'll find out that I live in a dinky apartment down the street from your suburban homes. It's not because I'm afraid you'll ask about my ex husband and find out that her father and I were barely even romantically involved even before her birth, and that the idea of marriage was never even considered (at least not in any real seriousness by me). It has nothing to do with the fact that I'm afraid you'll discover that I have no degree that I care to use, and am going to start college again full time in the summer, and that for money I model nude for artists. No. no, it's not that. It's just that I'm deep... reeeeal deep."

It's not always easy, if I might add, trying to select a book that says that much in the 4 to 8 minutes that I am standing by the Kindergarten door of our elementary school waiting for my daughters release.

This all comes to mind because the daughter I refer to asked me tonight how grownups make friends at school. I didn't, and I don't know at all how to tell her the truth...

"Mommy isn't very good making friends with people that are different than me".