Thank you for some friends

I must confess that I am a person who is incredibly skeptical when someone says, “you have to meet so-and-so. You two would make great friends.” I try to stay engaged, but I am internally shutting down, wanting to get up, leave and never continue the conversation. Thankfully, my daughters have never done this to me (yet), but they have brought a few stellar people into my life. Today’s post is dedicated to my daughters, to whom I now say, “thank you for some friends.”

Perhaps you wonder why I would resist someone wanting to help me make friends?

I think it’s mainly the introvert in me that immediately goes on alert. I have learned over the years what will fill my cup and those things that will drain me like a sieve. My introvert alert knows that meeting new people leads to the much-required making of small talk. While I know that I CAN do small talk, as I have had to do this professionally for the last 15 years, I also know that by making small talk my internal battery is slowly dying draining. A few times, I have pushed through this internal struggle, and I have been pleasantly surprised by the result.

What happened?

The first time was when my daughter wanted to have a playdate with her friend from preschool. We met up at a park, we moms watched our little girls play, and had great conversations throughout our time together. Soon after we became friends on social media, and have stayed friends since. 

The second time, I was waiting for my turn at parent-teacher conferences. I began chit-chatting with another mom in my daughter’s class, and slowly realized that I thought she was pretty awesome. Over the next several weeks, we kept bumping into each other at school events and around the neighborhood. Soon we became friends on social media (noticing a trend?), and now we text and message regularly.

Did this happen again?

Yep, in my daughter’s Girl Scout Troop a few years ago. Girl Scout cookie season was approaching, and my daughter was DESPERATE to be a Girl Scout and sell those addicting beloved cookies. I reluctantly volunteered to be an assistant leader in the troop so kindergarten Daisies could be added. Little did I know, a pandemic would hit within two months, our troop would shift to virtual for several months, and I would later have to take over as the troop leader. Perhaps I was right to be reluctant to volunteer?

I did learn rather quickly, that this arrangement would allow some girls to join the troop, and that my daughter (and later my youngest too) to get to know some great kids. The addition of these new girls brought their mothers to the troop, and now they’re irreplaceable parts of my village. We help one another when life gets tough, we look out for each other’s children, and they now help me lead the Girl Scout troop.

Have I changed my mind?

I’m not so sure about that. I am still an introvert who needs to protect my energy, choose wisely which things I agree to do, and prioritize some time alone each week. I am still skeptical of the phrase “you have to meet so-and-so, you two would make great friends.” I love the people in my life, and I’m flattered they think enough to introduce me to others in their life, and I want to invest my time in these treasured friendships. So, I won’t say no to meeting someone new, but I may continue being careful to protect my time for the ones already near and dear to my heart. 

mommy brain is real

Whether you have kids or not, I’m certain you have heard about Mommy Brain. My dearest Erica (aka happedancing) always wondered if it was real, and then a few of her close friends had children. One of the first things she said to me was, “DUDE, mommy brain is real!” Of course I responded, “oh yes, mommy brain is definitely real! Thanks to it, I feel half-stupid all the time.”

Since having kids I have moments of feeling functionally crazy or off my rocker. Frequently my husband questions the half done projects, things left on the tables/counter, and tasks left undone around the house. I attribute all of this to mommy brain. But none of these compare to the Chicken Incident.

I was just a couple months postpartum from having our second when I invited my friend Steph and her daughter over for dinner. I warned her it wouldn’t be anything super fancy as we were running errands that day. We both agreed that time spent together was of greater importance than a fancy meal together.

The incident…

That afternoon I took a trip to Costco with the girls, to keep the oldest entertained (she LOVES their samples). I also went to get some needed groceries, and I picked up a rotisserie chicken. I almost always get a rotisserie chicken if it’s anywhere close to dinner, because I know I’ll get at least two meals out of it. Work smarter not harder right?

HebrewDawn: mommy brain is real

Once we got home I put the chicken in the oven to keep it warm until dinner time. Next I put on a pot of brown rice to cook, because I figured I might as well make the sides healthy if I was bailing out of cooking the main dish. Right about that time Stephanie arrived. The weather was so gorgeous we decided we had to go enjoy some time at the playground with our girls. After awhile we came back to the house thinking the rice would be almost done so we could get a vegetable made to go along with our easy but healthy dinner.

In the midst of doing this I remember that I needed to warm up the chicken since it had been a little while since we got home and turned the oven on (mind you our oven defaults to 350 degrees). I started preparing some broccoli to sautée on the stove, turned on the stove to get the cast iron skillet hot, and then I noticed something about the rice cooker. The remaining cook time on the rice was 75 minutes and we need to feed the girls in about 20 Minutes as it was close to meltdown time for two hungry three year olds.

Suddenly something smelt a little burny (I don’t think that’s really a word, but I’m going with it). Then I remembered that I had put the chicken in there earlier to keep it warm. The chicken now had it’s plastic container melted all around it. *face palm*

HebrewDawn: mommy brain is real

Mommy brain struck again and I had ruined dinner. I waited too long to start the brown rice, and most importantly the chicken was inedible with melted plastic all around it. This was moment that I could have chosen to cry, but all I could do was laugh and give thanks that I had a good friend with me.

HebrewDawn: mommy brain is real

We turned off dinner, loaded the kids in the car and went to Chick-fil-A. I may have had hopes of providing a healthy dinner of chicken, brown rice, and broccoli for dinner, but fed was definitely best that night. Not to mention the two almost hungry three year olds were tickled to have dinner together at one of their favorite places. I guess mommy brain isn’t always so bad for everyone?