It is remarkable how few dishes get dirty when you don't cook! It's the big bonus of the next two weeks. Our move date has been up in the air until just yesterday, so the packing has turned into a big hurry up and wait. And wait a little more. With frozen pizzas and bagels. The toaster is still out. And so is the butter cow.
With the move date up in the air, along with the closing date on the new house, packing while Hubs was out of town for a few weeks, and then for fun we threw in an out of town wedding, it has been a little extra crazy over here. I've been trying to make up for it by eating Nutella. This will not bode well for bathing suit season. I'm thankful for the cool spring! Seriously. I ate an entire jumbo sized jar in two week by myself. Not good. And now I'm trying to use up the whipped cream... This move is a doozy so far and we haven't even gotten to the three day drive with kids yet. I can only laugh when I think about how much *fun* that will be.
But I still have a few days of sanity left. And I'm using them by fretting about making friends when we move. This was never something I ever worried about ever. But I'm worried this time. I'm afraid of not being liked. Of not being accepted. Of Little Man not having friends all summer. Of being alone and lonely. I had this grand plan in my mind that we would get Little Man into a summer soccer or baseball team at our local park and he would make great friends on the team and I would get along with the Moms and it would all be happy, happy. And easy. But baseball is a spring sport there. And soccer is a fall sport there. There are no summer sports at the local parks and rec. Sigh.
You may think I'm silly for worrying about this. And normally I would agree. I've moved 13 times in the past 11 years. I've made amazing friends along the journey. But here's the thing. When we lived on the lake last year, I didn't make one friend. Not ONE. The whole year we lived there, not one person wanted to be my friend. I went out of my way to talk to people at the parks, at church, at the school. I invited people over for play dates and tea and lunch. No one accepted. Not one. Even the local PTA didn't return my phone calls or emails when I tried to volunteer. It was awful. I felt so lonely and rejected and sad. And I'm so afraid of that happening again.
It really hurts to be rejected like that. Especially when Hubs made a million friends right off the bat. Everyone up there loved him. And no one liked me. Ah, it really stung! Still does when I think about it.
I've tried to make some peace with that time. And looking back, now that I'm not there, I can appreciate that time to be alone and grieve and write and cook and prepare for Little Lady's arrival. It really was a great year and I'd like to think that God set me aside to be alone for a reason. I'd like to think it just wasn't because no one wanted to be my friend.
At the very least, I understand what it is like to be left out and alone and I try much harder now to be welcoming and inclusive when I see someone alone. Which is much more difficult for me than it ever used to be. When Jameson was sick and died, I became much more of an introvert than the extrovert that I used to be. And I think this is somewhat of a permanent change.
So, yeah, I'm afraid that no one is going to want to be my friend when we move. And I'm worried for my kids, too. And because I love my kids, I will venture out of my comfort zone as the newbie and I will be the crazy mom at the park, practically handing out calling cards. I wish adulthood were as simple as preschool and I could just ask people to be my friends. But that seems awkward and desperate. Which may look even worse. How is it this complicated in my brain?
Well, until then, I've got a little Nutella to scrape off the sides of the empty jar and a Little
Lady who is not napping and needs some loving.
Look for the lonely and be their friends.
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