I'm just not very awake.
|A hot one in the morning and an iced one in the afternoon. Yes, I love my coffee|
Even if I'm sipping on my travel mug filled to the brim with coffee.
I do want to meet the other parents. Get to know them. Make adult friends. Maybe even start a carpool, but only if they have one child. Unlike most of them, I don't drive a minivan. Just our Camry. Besides being courteous, it's good to meet new people.
Still getting up at 6:30 in the morning when my pillow hit the bed a mere 4 hours earlier. It's tough to be cheery and social. I'm tired and I don't want to talk about the weather, what kind of homework our kids got from their teachers or whether the bus will be on time today. I know they're being friendly, but I'm not big on that kind of small talk when I'm awake.
Earlier this year when my book club From Left to Write read Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking, I learned that I have many qualities of an introvert. One of those qualities is that introverts don't care for small talk. I could blame my morning crankiness on sleep deprivation and being an introvert. Maybe.
|Sometimes I babysit cheetahs at the bus stop while Jaxson runs amok|
When I wait for the afternoon school bus, I bring a book. There's a fenced in play area at the stop. Jaxson gets to run around and make new friends. I watch over him and read. It's the first moment of quiet I've had all day. I also enjoy the 15 minutes or so when there isn't a toddler clinging on me. I partially block out the noise around me and read, looking up every few minutes to check on Jaxson.
I savor this time. As soon as we get in the car to go back home. the next three hours will be filled with noisy children who are constantly asking for something. It's my quiet time until they're in bed and finally snoring.
If see me at the bus stop, come chat with me. I'm really nice. Let's not talk about the weather, please?
This post was inspired by January First, father Michael Shofield and his family struggle to find the right treatment for his daughter Jani, who was diagnosed with schizophrenia at six years old. To find a sense of normalcy, Jani's parents took her on many play dates before they knew her diagnosis. She was not the social butterfly they had hoped she would be.
How far would you go to advocate for your child? In Join From Left to Write on September as we discuss the Shofield's memoir January First. As a member, I received a copy of the book for review purposes. This post contains affiliate links.