Adjusting

"I don't ever want to go outside again," he yells at me. It's a gorgeous day, and we've got a playground within shouting distance of our building. He can hear the kids laughing and screaming out there. All those kids, friends with each other, none of them friends with him. I know it seems that way. "We've got to get out there if we want to meet new people," I insist.

At the playground, he hands me a light saber. "Why don't we find another kid to play with?" I suggest. Mommy is old, and tired of playing Star Wars. The place is crawling with kids, after all. Many of whom are eyeing our light sabers with great interest.

Henry shakes his head. "I only play with my family," he insists. But he's watching an older boy, a charismatic type being chased by a young girl, possibly his sister. I can see the mechanisms whirring. Willing to play with younger kids. Likes to be chased. I like to chase. "I'm going to ask him to play," he whispers to me, but just as he approaches, the kid takes off abruptly with his dad. It looks to me like they're just taking a restroom break, but even after they return a few minutes later, Henry never tries again.

It's hard to make friends. You want to rush things. In a way, I'm jealous of Henry. I miss the days when you met someone and because you both liked the same things (Barbie? Swings? Creative nonfiction?) you were instant friends. All it will take for him to make a playground friend is eye contact with one kid, just one, someone to run around with. But he keeps his eyes on me. I want to tell him he doesn't know how easy he has it. As if that would work.

So I take matters into my own hands. There's a boy who seems to be around Henry's age playing near us. "Are those Ben-10 sneakers?" I inquire, and the boy nods and starts to list his favorite Ben-10 characters. Henry rolls his eyes violently. "I already know about that," he says, and takes off down the slide. The boy and I watch him, and we shrug at each other. Kids. What can you do. Meanwhile, Henry is eyeing a group of boys playing ball with each other. Boys who are way too busy doing their thing to notice the straggler in their midst. Oh, Henry. But of course I do the same thing. Why does this person want to be my friend so badly? Is there something wrong with her? On the other hand, what's that group of cool-looking parents over there, and how can I talk to them? I can't. God, I'm lame.

It's hard. I know it will get easier. But I still hate this part.

Comments

[hi kooky]

Sending two hugs - one for you, one for Henry.

[Carrie]

God, I so feel you. I'm sure you are better at this than I am, because we moved to a new town two years ago and I still don't have a real friend here. I have lots of friends, but they all live somewhere else -- elsewhere in the huge metropolitan blob of Chicago, elsewhere in the country, elsewhere in the world.At 4, though, my daughter seems great at the friend thing. All over town, she's hugging girls she met at the Y or at day camp or ice skating class or school. I'm hoping she takes after her social dad forever, and this isn't just a phase she'll grow out of.

[Maeve]

9th Street Playground? Just keep going back every single day and you and Henry will meet people.

[stephanie]

whatever. Just holler out that ALICE and HENRY from finslippy have arrived. They will flock to you.

xoxo

p.s. Of course I know exactly what you speak of and know how hard it is. I'm just teasing you. If I ever spotted you at a park I'd be all over you. (not that way.)

[RuthWells]

I'm forty-frickin'-two, and I hate this part, also. Still.

[Dory]

I'm thirty-six and it seems like it gets harder! Here's hugs for your family.

[Summer Saldana]

If only things got easier when we got older.

[bri]

My kiddo is too little for Henry to play with but I would be thrilled to be your friend. I am home for the next two weeks and am planning to spend a lot of time at 9th Street and 3rd Street. Look for a small redhead and a bespectacled momma. And with that I have already said too much and surely will now have stalkers.

And see, now I've typed that and now I'm thinking, GAWD - Alice Bradley is way too hip and famous and cool to want to be friends with MEEEEEE. Erase that right now. She has no idea who you are and she doesn't care.

All to say we have all been there. And I will hit POST anyway.

[Mary @ Holy Mackerel]

Been there. It's very hard. Still is...

[Grace]

For your sake and mine, I sincerely hope it does. We're recent transplants too and finding friends has been the hardest.

In the most pathetic way possible, I reached out to another blogger in the area. When she suggested we get together, I jumped at the idea! Well, I must have sounded way too eager/desperate, because it's been crickets chirping. Why am I so lame!!!!

[Lori L.]

I feel for you! Nothing like these situations to make you feel like you're back in middle school, the tallest girl in the class, with pimples, straggly hair, who trips up the stairs, twitches nervously around boys. Anyway.

[Rachel]

wear a shirt with your URL on it so they can get to know you online :) Then THEY will come up to YOU.

I wish I was still Henry's age when you can go up to someone and say "wanna be friends?" and then, that's it! You're friends!

[LPC]

I am 52 and it has finally gotten easier. Not that that helps you or Henry right now. I still remember vividly the best advice I ever got. They call the asking to play a "play bid" in kid development circles. They say the best method is actually to align your play with others, i.e. set up parallel play first, then when you make your bid, it's specific. If you study what they are playing, you can say, "Can I be the truck restaurant?", or, "Can I be the Blue Power Ranger?" instead of, "Can I play?" Since kids really don't know if you can play, that question is too abstract.

There must be a corollary for grownups. I think it's just getting too tired to care, sitting down, and making world-weary sarcastic comments to the air. Someone usually laughs.

[Sarah]

Apparently there are many of us out there. I'm 'new in town' and have a hard time breaking through the 'clique shield' at the park. My kids are too young to have real friends yet, but I would love some.

Wishing you luck!

[aubrey]

it's been, like what, a week? it took luca and us a year to finally make friends...of course they just up and moved away from us, but it will happen. now we have to try and warm up some more suckers to be our friends...warmer days ahead will help.

[Jen]

Oh, Henry, it's so hard. I moved to Chicago 18 months ago and it's still hard to find friends. Good luck, buddy.

[Amy @ Muddy Boots]

When we moved cross-country last May, I was 3 months pregnant (ie. suffering EXTREME morning sickness) and my boys were 18 months old and a month shy of five years. We were living in a hotel downtown and didn't even know where the good parks were! To make matters worse, we moved to a province WHERE THEY SPEAK FRENCH. So my poor little guy couldn't even ASK to play. It broke my heart to see him so desperate for friends.

It *does* get better, but in the mean time I know that kind of helpless feeling you get when you see your much loved little one struggle to make friends.

[Kim]

Ouch - this brings bag really hard memories of childhood for lots of people and I am absolutely included. My mom was so fed up with my shyness that one day she opened the front door, pointed to a girl riding her bike down the street, and said "You can't come back in the house until you've talked to her." I became friends with that girl but I'm still traumatized! (Mom had the right idea, and probably the only execution that would have gotten results.)

[Sue]

When we moved, I found that wandering the neighborhood for hours at a time (I don't care if you're tired, Sarah, we're on a MISSION) was surprisingly effective. Looking slightly confused/lost was also helpful, because the kind types would invariably ask if I needed help. (I have no shame - making people feel sorry for me in order to get what I want? TOTALLY O.K.)

Hope you feel at home very soon.

[Mary Ellen]

Ohhhh, I hear ya.My girls come in three, so they hardly have to make friends but it still tortures me when a nice friendly child will come up to my oldest on the playground and say hi. Like this: Hi! And my daughter's response is this:

Nothing!!!

We moved to a new town two years ago and I have tried, really, to make new friends. I have even thought about putting up a notice in the playground: "New Book Club!" But then I think, ohhhh, but I'll have to clean the house for new people!!

Good luck to you and Henry!

[die Frau]

Booooo...that feeling doesn't change, does it? Sometimes you get to the "I don't want to go to the party, but I at least want the invite" stage that I was in for a while. I've been at my job for TWO YEARS now and I still feel like I can't crack certain groups, mostly the "cool" kids who think they're still in high school.

You will not have to sit there with that vague, detached, "I'm-fun-and-friendly-so-please-be-my-friend" smile for too long. I know you and Henry will find playmates soon!

[Angela]

Hugs. There's not much I can say. We moved this past summer, and the anxiety didn't hit my 4-year old until school started. We're still not totally there. She still talks about her old school friends. But she's no longer asking to go back. Time, and lots of play dates. BTW, sucks to be the new mom at the playground, almost as much as it sucks to be the new kid. But I can't imagine that you'll be the new mom for long.

[J.]

Can TOTALLY relate, and Henry will probably have an easier time than you. I don't really have any friends where I am now, they're scattered all over the place, which means lots of long phone conversations, but no one to go out with on Friday night. Boo.

[Stephanie]

Poor little thing. I'm still not very good at making friends and I'm 22. He'll have some little buddies to run around with in no time.

[PB Rippey: blogma (sleepless m]

I've been going to a mommy group for months and STILL don't feel like I fit in, but I keep going back for more, keep smiling, and anyway, HE likes it, likes the other toddlers' toys and exploring new houses and parks and backyards, so that's all that matters, really. Pretty much. (sigh)