I’ll be blunt and say I’m usually not the first to say, “Hello!” even though I really want to meet you. I will, though, have a bright and smiling face hoping you’d catch the drift that I’m really interested in meeting you. I avoid my RBF* – at all cost – for that chance moment someone might meet my glance that screams, “Please say ‘hello’ to me” and does just that.
But many times, you already have your clique and the mom circle is impenetrable. You’d think, the bigger the number of moms around, the easier it would be to meet them but the truth is, there’s no correlation.
Moms don’t mean to be this way, I know you don’t. I’ve been on the other end too where I have some people I know and see you at the corner alone. I wish I could talk to you and invite you over but I get clammy and shy. I try to get one of the girls in the group to do it and many times, success. This is not what you’ve taught your kids to do nor want them to make someone feel. I feel for you… and for me when I’m alone.
Why can’t I just be “hello!” Im the one that is socially awkward and self-talking myself thinking that others probably don’t want to know me anyway. May or may not be true but I find comfort in that thought; more comfort than the thought of me introducing myself and possibly not being wanted in the “in” mom circle.
Eventually, I wind down, mentally shrivel up, take out my phone while my kid plays on the field with others… a kid that I have trained since he was little to make new friends every day, make sure everyone is included and feels welcomed because it sucks to be left out.
There he is doing what he does just as mommy encouraged him to. No fear they may not like him despite times I’ve witnessed kids telling him to “go away,” ignore his invitations to play, and go as far as running far away so he wouldn’t be able to join them. Regardless, he remains unshaken and goes on to meet new kids. Surely, someone would love to play. And he finally finds them. And here I sit, wishing I had an ounce of his courage.
Sometimes, I’ll linger around my son and his new little friends hoping I’d meet their mom this way, somewhat nearby as we play. But it doesn’t always work out. She’s tapping on her smartphone too. I think she’s busy. Maybe she’s a blogger too.. or works sales from home through her phone. I somehow quickly disregard the fact that she may just be as equally nervous or socially awkward just as I am, a girl on her phone.
And I go home the same as before simply because no one said hello.