My Son Has No Friends

May 8, 2008

This is the story of D, the boy with no friends. It sounds like it’ll be a sad story, but it isn’t, so bear with me.

D is almost four and has never had a play date set up strictly on his behalf. Sure, he’s been dragged from home to home, to dance lessons, gymnastics classes and homeschool coops. But, he has no single boy (or girl) that I can point to and say, “that’s D’s friend”.

Do you feel sorry for him? Please don’t.

Yesterday, while waiting for the girls’ dance class to end, I watched D running around the dance teacher’s back yard with two other girls his age. The three giggled, whispered, shouted and ran like old friends. And, yet, he will probably never play with them again.

In our coop, there are a few kids who he gravitates toward, but as all the kids play together regardless of age or gender, it’s hard to say that D has a specific ‘friend’. However, like in the teacher’s back yard, he enjoys himself thoroughly with these children.

The interesting thing about D is that, while he is never alone, he can play on his own better than his two older siblings. He also is unafraid of older children; I think part of this is because he is in the company of older kids so much.

Socially, he seems just fine.

He also has a cousin, just eight months younger, who we see weekly. And while this is an ‘arranged friendship’, per se, I think it will be of the utmost importance as he grows older.

With my oldest child, I was very, very, very dedicated to making sure she had friends. We joined a play group when she was four months old. I called up acquaintances and set up play dates. I enrolled her in preschools, enrichment classes, story hours. I dragged her to children’s events in town.

I can’t even imagine doing this with my third. I’m too lazy and it seems too complicated. I rationalize that he has two older sisters—-two ‘built in’ playmates. I’m not sure I have the patience to meet new moms with little boys, invite them into my home and make small talk about. . .whatever. I’m not doing the preschool circuit.

And while I may worry that I’m shortchanging him, that I should be more aggressive in ‘finding’ him friends, I doubt he shares any of my concerns. He’s too busy trying to build a house of blocks or a road for his cars.

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Filed Under: Fairly Odd Kids 19 Comments

Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow, Part IV

May 6, 2008

Thank you all so much for the kind comments about my short-blond-hair stage (from Part III. Also, part I is here; part II is here). Meg Ryan? Really??

Your compliments almost make me want to go back to that style, but then I remember that “short” and “blond” requires upkeep. I can see myself now with dark roots down to here, shaggy bangs, uneven layers. . . it just isn’t pretty. Maybe in a few years, I’ll have the time to try that style again.

Predictably, after years of short and blond, I got bored and decided to try red. Oh, how I loved the red hair on the boxes of hair color.

Here is day one, in a semi-permanent burgundy color (the year is 1996; I will meet my beloved shortly after making the switch to red):

Here I am in more of a “Carrot Top” shade. . .and, no, that is not my hairy leg in the photo.

Here I am with disastrously short bangs. . .


And now with hair that is in desperate need of a cut. . .


Now before you tell me, “UGH! You should never have done red!”, you should know that the person writing this has red hair on her head. So, be kind. I do have a box of blond color in the bathroom, though, in case I need to make a change, pronto.

Next up. . .my hair at marriage and after the birth of each of my three children. Trust me, I should never, ever go “natural” with my hair.

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Filed Under: Fairly Odd Me, My-Not-So-Sordid Past 19 Comments

Plus One

May 4, 2008

Three infamous blogging mamas are having babies s-o-o-n. With their new babe, the number of children in their homes will double.

I remember going from one to two all too well. My oldest, Belly, was just over the age of 2 when I went into the hospital to have my next child. After having a successful VBAC, Fairly Odd Father and I took turns holding Jilly in our arms as we watched snow fall outside our window that March morning. It fell and fell until the roads became impassable, and we were marooned in the hospital with our new baby.

It was luxurious to be able to relax with a newborn without having visitor after visitor arrive, but this also meant that my firstborn, who had never spent a night away from me, was now separated from us for even longer. She knew we had a new baby, her baby sister. I wonder if she thought we were going to go and live with this new baby and leave her behind?

The following day, when the roads were cleared, Belly came bouncing into my hospital room. My first thought was, “Oh my. She is SO big! How did my (first) baby become so big?!?!” It was a huge moment, one that I can still feel in my chest when I recall it.

That was more than five years ago. Since then, I have added yet another to our brood, but he came so close to Jilly (they are 18 months apart) that there was little time for reflection. I do remember holding the pregnancy stick in one hand, a nine-month old baby in another and saying, “How can I be pregnant?!? Jilly is still a baby!!!!!” And then I giggled hysterically, because, really, what else can you do?

One reason for writing this post is that we blogging mamas (and dads) are to give these pregnant moms some advice about having two kids. I’m going to stray from my comfort zone, which would be to give them some very practical advice, and write about something I’ve observed about myself in these past few years.

One thing I’ve had to be careful about is this: labeling my kids. Knowing each of my children is a unique person, it is too easy to assign them with a role in our family. I see this done a lot in other families too. One child is the friendly one, the other shy. One child eats everything, the other nothing. One child is ‘musical’, the other ‘sporty’.

Jilly is our spaz who says hilarious and inappropriate things; Belly is social, talkative and loves to sing; D is the quiet, reflective one.

Except when they aren’t.

Things in my brain rearrange a bit when Belly hangs back in a new setting and clings to my leg; when Jilly stands up and sings loudly and seriously in the front row of a children’s choir; when D starts talking up a storm. They are alike and they are different, but it isn’t so much stark black and white as it is a swirling pattern.

As siblings, my hope is that they will stand on their own but will always have another that is so familiar to them that they are never truly alone.

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Filed Under: Blog Love, Fairly Odd Kids, Fairly Odd Me 9 Comments
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