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Monday, November 17, 2014

Introverts and Social Gatherings

Over the weekend I had to attend an event with my Seren, which basically means, she gets to do all kinds of fun kid things and work hard dancing with exciting people.  While I get to sit on the concrete floor for eight plus hours surrounded by strangers, people I may know but aren’t friends, almost friends, and then thankfully a few friends (one).  For me, a getting worse by the day introvert, this day was absolute torture for me. 

Why?  How hard can it be?  Sitting around talking all day with a bunch of people that have so much in common with me, in that our lives revolve around our dancers.  Well, because, I spend all day second-guessing myself about everything I said and did.  Then I get home and spend all night second-guessing myself.  For instance, I made a simple comment about there being a good reason why my two children are so far apart in years, in that our first child was very hard. 

I spent half the night thinking and being upset that I had insulted my first-born.  That wasn’t what I meant, and of course anyone that knows me and my first born would know that was not what I meant, but as I said, most of these people aren’t my friends, so no, they wouldn’t know that.  My Sidney is so sweet and loving and giving, even now as an adult and a mother herself she never changed.  She was hard because she was fearless.  She didn’t have a bit of care about getting hurt, trying something new, jumping off a couch if she decided she could fly.  She was hard because she never stopped moving, and she had to know and learn things on her own.  Every thing on her own.  People that haven’t lived through that type of child, think that’s a great thing. I should be proud.  I should be grateful for her inquisitive nature and natural curiosity.  Those people are idiots.  I say it now, and I mean it.  Ironing a pair of pants, and telling her, “Don’t touch honey, that is hot and will burn you.  It will hurt.”  Thinking she understands, and the next moment, she reaches out and touches it anyway just to see for herself.  It was the same thing with the curling iron and the stove and the hot water heater.  It didn’t matter what you did or said, she had to find it out on her own.  You could tell her if you do ______ you will die a horrible death full of writhing pain and she wouldn’t care.  She would have to find out herself.  Every.  Single.  Time.  Every. Single. Thing.

The Peter Pan stage was one of the worst I lived though.  She knew, just knew she could fly.  It didn’t matter what I said or did, she wouldn’t hear it.  She could fly and that was that.  Short of tying her up to my leg, she was diving off of everything that was off the ground.  The coffee table.  The couch.  Chairs.  The entertainment stand.  I spent more time diving to catch her than you would imagine.  I remember sitting in my pediatrician’s office sobbing to the poor man, that I didn’t know what to do with her.  I remember clear as day almost two decades later, him laughing at me.  Laughing and telling me to stop trying to protect her.  Let her fall down.  Let her get hurt.  Now think of putting that into action.  Allowing your children to be hurt…even when you know you could stop it most of the time.  Yeah, I couldn’t do it. 

That fearless nature didn’t make her a bad kid.  She is still full of life and willing to try anything.  It scares me.  But even all that, she is wonderful and always has been.  So, as you can see, even a full day later, it’s still on my mind.  That is only one instance that I worried about all afternoon and night.  I won’t even begin to go through all my moments and mistakes, during one short day.  It’s why social things are so hard for me.  I’m worn out today. 


Thankfully, that is the last social gathering I have to get through until December 7th, when I have an author’s event at Orange Library in Lewis Center.  If you would like to see me in full color and action, come on out from 2-5.  I’ll have books and who knows what else.  Now to get back to worrying about what I said and did yesterday.  

3 comments:

  1. Hahahahhaaha! And now you have to worry about what you said/wrote in this post also, as you just called a percentage of the population "idiots." :P I am exactly the same way and struggle with the other moms around here. Not sure I could survive eight hours of it. It's absolutely exhausting, and I'm not sure why we even care so much what they think anyway? Roz is that stubborn. I have to let her find out some things for herself, then after she'll admit I was right, and I ask for that in writing. You tend to not want them to break any bones, though! :)

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