Don’t all kids play in vacant warehouses?
Posted June 3rd, 2008 | Filed Under: Blog
***
You’re probably familiar with a scene from a movie or sit-com when the camera focuses too late on a conversation and all you hear is what must have been the punch line to a good joke. Someone in the middle of a gathering — usually a handsome man holding a martini and smiling wryly — offers something like, “And then I said, “No, four chupacabras!” “
And the whole crowd breaks into fits of laughter. The man beams. Women throw themselves at him. Men want to be him or throw themselves at him, too. The camera circles and it’s clear: Everyone is having a great time — all because of the handsome, hilarious man in the middle of it all.
Well, that’s me.
Cocktail parties. Social hours. Bris Milahs. It doesn’t matter. I am always the most exciting, most interesting man in the room.
Sadly, all this excitement usually takes place in the bathroom while I am getting ready for said cocktail party, social gathering or painful religious ceremony. I’ll shave in front of the mirror, throwing off one-liners in my head and even smiling just so, as the make-believe crowd howls. And not just because they can see me naked in the mirror either. In the shower, I’ll think of interesting things to say, going over topics that do not include the weather or stocks or bonds. Putting on clothes, I’ll lose a little confidence, however, and by the time I get into the car, I’m usually wiping sweat from my brow and repeating a mantra of, “You can do this. You can do this.”
When I actually arrive at the party, I am such a nervous wreck that I’ll go stand in a corner for a solid two hours, checking my watch every five minutes and rocking back and forth on my heels like somebody who recently escaped from something. And you know how fun it is to get stuck talking to a sweaty lunatic.
“Can we go yet?” I’ll ask Dana. “Is it time?”
I once spent an entire dinner party in the bathroom.
I don’t think “shy” covers this type of neurosis. “Painfully, embarrassingly awkward” is more like it. I’m usually OK around friends but strangers frighten me. Dana knows when it’s time for us to leave a party, because I will begin to stutter and turn red at the same time. It’s probably like being married to Mr. Tomato Head, a Mr. Tomato Head who is more socially inert than his plastic, big-eared toy counterpart.
Dana was trying to tell me the difference between extroverts and introverts one time, explaining that while an introvert like me needs relax alone after a large gathering, an extrovert finds all the relaxation he needs at the gathering.
“What?” I interrupted, “Have you planned a party and didn’t tell me about it?”
“No, no –”
“Do we have to go somewhere?”
“What? No –”
“Oh my god, are people coming over?”
“Never mind.”
***
If Emmeline wakes up early from a nap, I usually take her to a narrow, run-down pocket park that is only a few blocks away. There’s a few swings, a beat up metal slide and a row of monkey bars with busted wooden steps that lead up to a set of rainbow bars that look as if they’d been painted in tetanus. This is not our usual park. In fact, and I was thinking about this the other day, we don’t actually have a usual park.
We do go to a playground in the Mission quite a bit now, but never on a regular schedule. Sometimes we’ll head over to a playground high above Noe Valley. Other times we’ll hop on a train and explore the downtown playgrounds, which are oftentimes devoid of people. But as much as I enjoy not having to make casual banter with other parents, I’m beginning to think I have set my child on a course to social ruin. A lot of days, we won’t go to a park at all. We’ll simply wander the streets, popping in and out of furniture or fabric stores. We’ll go downtown to see Dana and then explore dark alleys. I used to think it was fantastic that she’d walk into the museum and point out the Warhol. Now, now I’m beginning to think otherwise.
At our little pocket park the other day, Emme was walking up the slide by herself when a group of three other children came rushing over, tumbling over themselves and laughing their way to the slide. It was like we had been invaded by Pippi Longstocking’s younger siblings, the ones with a smack habit. These kids were all energy. They were also strangers to each other. I managed to fumble a few sentences with one of their moms and learned they had just met at the park. And yet, there they were, playing together like, well, like kids. One was about Emme’s age and two were just a little older.
Emme was almost to the top of the slide when one of the kids started to climb up, too. Seeing this, Emme backed down slowly, stepped off the slide and stood quietly off to the side, waiting for the horde of howling locusts to overtake another piece of playground equipment.
“It’s OK, kid,” I told her, “You can play, too. They’re just playing.”
Emme stood there, waiting. She refused to move and just watched instead. Up and down the slide and ladder they went, while Emme patiently watched. Eventually the kids went off to a row of scraggly bushes to play hide and seek. One would dip behind the row, so that only his feet were visible, while the others searched. Then, when it was someone else’s turn, that kid would also hide behind the bushes. By the fourth iteration, I felt badly for the poor sap who searched behind the swing set before the bush because it was clear this game wasn’t called “hide and seek” so much as “close your eyes while I go hide behind that bush. That one. Right there.” But still, it looked like they were having fun.
“Do you want to play, too?” I asked Emme. She was at the top of the slide again, watching the game. I offered to take her hand and lead her into the action, but she pulled away.
“Please,” she said, “Emme wants to slide. Emme wants to slide with daddy.”
She never took her eyes off the row of bushes, however, and I flashed back to countless parties spent huddling in a corner or pretending the read the wallpaper.
Please, I thought, please don’t let her be this part of me.
Emme moved onto the monkey bars, asking them when they had been tested last, while I watched the little locusts. They had found a new game pushing the swings but grew tired of it quickly. I watched as they ran off toward an unruly shock of yellow grass, and I must have been watching for a long time because when I heard a tiny, distant noise, I looked around and couldn’t find my daughter. I scanned the park and heard it again — a quiet, lonesome call.
The long, scraggly row of bushes had suddenly grown another set of legs, anxious little excited legs that couldn’t stand still. Miraculously, the bush began to speak.
“Where’s Emme?” it called in a voice muffled by leaves and a light wind, “Where did Emme go?”
It was all I could do not to cry. The kids were almost a football field away by now, and here she was, hiding behind a bush, trying.
The bush spoke again. Quietly. Earnestly.
“Where did Emme go?” it whispered, “Hello? Hello?”
It wanted to play so badly.
57 Comments
ok, I’m totally crying right now. I can so feel this.
You know what, even people who are not painfully shy feel like this sometimes. I suppose that’s not much of a consulation, but still.
Ok, ass-service you did not ask for, but having been told by more than one person, “you have the most social girls I’ve ever met!” (I’m pretty sure the individuals were not paying a compliment,) here’s my 2cents on it: Join something. Do it for your kid. Seriously. Gymboree, My Gym, community center art classes, etc…you get the idea. Something where the kids have “circle time” at some point is important. You won’t HAVE to talk to people cause you’ll be watching your kid, but you’ll end up because your kids will interact. It really won’t be as painful as you think, you will even have some fun. I promise.
I know the mom’s in these classes are not always as friendly to the dad’s on the outset, but once one of their kid’s befriends yours (or someone bites someone, it’s almost the same thing, trust me) you’ll talk because you have something in common. That & you’ll want to be sure their kid has had all their shots (the biting thing).
Ok, lecture over (for now). I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but I think it’s important. (Which means I’ll probably bring it up again if you don’t, cause I’m a pain like that, just ask my husband.)
Also, we’re headed to South City tomorrow for lunch w/daddy, if you’re around we could come to meet you for a play date before or after.
(How’s that for a pushy broad?) And my little socialites rock at hide behind the bush. (email me, if not tomorrow 6/3, then we’re headed your way again in a couple weeks.)
This made me cry. I have a daughter so much like that. She is almost 13 and still very reserved, but growing out if it - compared to my 8 year old who has never met a stranger and dives right in the biggest crowd.
I think maybe a morning out group would be good for her (and you?) lol
She’s a cutie!!
Oh my god this story is so beautiful it’s damn near haunting.
Your writing just kills me. Of course I understand your fears for Emme,
but as far as you are concerned-who the hell cares about tiresome cocktail
party chatter when you have THIS kind of stuff in your head? Stunning, truly.
Thanks for the great advice. We have actually gone to a playgroup for a long time but it’s only once a week and I think we need more than that.
Mike, have you taken her to story time at a local library? Since she loves books, something like that would introduce her to other children in a non-threatening way. I agree with the other comments, too. She does need more social interaction with other kids since it is apparent that she wants to play, too. Your writing of the subject simply made my heart hurt.
Oh man, I could have written this post, except if I did, it wouldn’t be as well done. I can completely sympathize with you on all fronts, and I’m glad you’re able to have an outlet like this where obviously lots of people find you funny and interesting enough to regularly listen to whatever you have to say.
As for the next generation, sometimes I want to grab my son by the shoulders and shout, “Just go play with those kids!! It’s so easy now, but it won’t always be– just do it!” Little kids don’t have the complex social games and rules and expectations of older kids– even I used to play with kids then, and that’s saying something. I feel like if he is destined to be just like me, he could at least have this time now before it’s too late. I know I’d really just be shouting at myself more than him, though, so I hold my tongue and try to gently encourage him to reach out.
But for now, he sits there alone on his cushion not participating but listening intently to the story or song at the library, as all the other kids dance, clap, sing, and even run and jump around him. He watches intently, so he’ll know all about how to be a “normal” kid, but it seems like he may never feel natural enough to try out what he’s learned.
It’s their loss.
That’s heartbreaking. Emme (and you) need to find friends she can bond with, … what is happening with preschools? She’s only 2, this isn’t a life sentence, and groups are great ways to meet other kids (and parents), but I think a one-pn-one playdate schedule is better. I’ll bet she (and you) is better with one friend/playmate than trying to run with the herd. And once she gets the hang of playing with one friend, the group will be easier. If it’s a bigger group, she may always be the odd-girl-out.
And as much as you may want her not to share your social frustrations, remember to find joy and strength in her unique traits. In Arabella’s preschool class last year, one little girl was painfully shy, to the extent that I didn’t hear her talk for over 6 months (and I was in class at least every month). She never played tea party-princess-wild horses with the other girls in class, but at least her parents didn’t have to worry about her chatting up the mangy drug addict down the street, or making bosom buddies with every stranger at the library, like Arabella does.
Oh jeezums. I’m delurking to comment on this heartbreaker of a post. Seriously, this had me tearing up, and I can just feel the longing and your response to her. I think you’re a great dad and hopefully it will become easier for the both of you over time! Just keep hanging in there!
I can relate. My firstborn was reticent to join other kids at the playground, afraid of their noise and boisterous behavior. Sometimes she’d have climbed to the top of the slide, and seeing a bunch of kids furiously trying to ascend the same ladder, she’d panic and start to cry. Meanwhile, there was a traffic jam of kids who really didn’t give a shit that she was shy, right behind her. It was a relief for me to bring her somewhere empty or nearly empty. She’s 5 now, and boy did preschool make a huge difference. She’s still shy, still reserved, still hesitant, and that’s okay. But she’s able to navigate better in social situations. It will come in time, truly. Both my husband and I were (and still are) shy as well, often painfully so. And your description of yourself in social situations really hit home.
My Emma was always an observer, and even though (as an extrovert myself) it completely freaked me out, I kind of let it slide for a few years. When I had to put her in daycare for 9 months (at around 3)while I got my teaching credential, I thought it would be a good chance for her to get to know other kids. She hated it. Even now, (at the age of 11!) when we drive past the old daycare, occasionally I’ll hear her voice mumbling from the back seat, “That was the worst experience of my life.” and I cringe.
The point is, she simply wasn’t ready for all that interaction. Now, she has plenty of friends and play opportunities, which opened up for her when she started Junior Kindergarten. She simply needed to observe, to check things out, before she felt comfortable enough to join in.
In your case, Emme wanting to play after the kids left wasn’t necessarily a result of her missing the kid boat and thus needing to join 20 different play groups to “socialize” her. I like to think that it was more about trying out that cool thing she saw other kids do on someone she feels completely safe with, you, which is totally developmentally appropriate. I don’t think that is bad, or that it shows signs of anti social behavior. Sure, play dates are a good idea, but i just don’t want you to worry too much.
Another possibility: She has finely tuned LOSER radar at this young age, and could already sense that those particular kids weren’t worth her time. She is a smart girl, after all…
oh I like that idea.
My daughter is so much like Emme. She too will hang back and watch the other kids and only get up enough courage to play after they have left. At her pseudo pre-school she doesn’t participate in circle time, but comes home and sings all of the songs and pretends to do the circle activities. She also knows all of the other kids names, but doesn’t ever talk to them.
Like Kelly both me and my husband were really shy as children. We have outgrown that somewhat, but see a lot of ourselves in our daughter.
I believe I recall the girls my mother made me walk to school with — They wouldn’t be what you called friends– once charged me with the question, “Why don’t you ever SAY anything?” I believe I just said, “I don’t have anything to say.”
Just because a 2 year old had a moment of shyness at the playground does not mean she will be debilitatingly mute in all social situations. And hey, even if she does end up being introverted, what’s so horrible about that?
This was a tough one, whether to elaborate on all her many levels of shyness, but I thought this incident really highlighted it best. If it were just one time, of course I’d feel differently.
hey.
I look after a small girl a bit older than Emme, she kinda looks like her too… weirdly enough. Anyway we were at the store the other day, and she refused to go play on the playground because there were too many kids, and wanted me to play with her instead. I also worry about The Beast with this- as I leave for ‘a-man-in-car’ in less than 2 weeks who will force him to play with other kids?- The other day we were at the beach and without prompting from me, he walked up to two little girls and asked if he could play with them. I was so proud, but then they changed their minds and ignored him while he still tried to join in. Poor kid, but at least he tried. I think it’s the kinder gym that made a difference, it’s a small class and he loves it. Most favourite thing in the world at the moment.
I’ve been reading for a long time now, but never delurked until this post. I honestly don’t believe children need to be “socialized” at such a young age. I have the exact opposite problem with my daughter. She is undoubtedly the loudest most energetic child at the park.,.hands down! She is a fiery little imp with no fear and no volume control. It overwhelms me so much and I never know how to deal with it. I think the world needs a good balance of people like you, possibly Emme, and my daughter. You two soak it all up, allow your thoughts to become masterpieces of colorful metaphors, and then articulate things in a way that anyone could understand. My daughter bluntly states the obvious and puts things on track quickly and assertively. It takes all types.
And, hey…don’t worry about those cocktail parties because with or without your skivvies on(I’d never know from this end of things) you keep me in stitches!!!
As for finding something for Emme to do that will still make use of her beautiful quiet temperament, have you ever thought of Cricket on the Hearth at a Waldorf School? The parents are there, knitting, sewing, or singing, just a quiet presence, while the kids play and relate. It’s a gentle and warm environment. There are stories told, a shared snack, outdoor time, and then goodbyes. Meanwhile, you’d never have to say a word but could easily make use of your skillful hands. I know there’s a underlying philosophy behind it all that may not be up your alley, but just for an introduction to a gentler world experience it would be great for her.
No matter what, and in spite of it all, she will grow up to be a wonderful and caring human being because she obviously has great roots to grow from!
I’ve been told (by our very “experienced” pediatrician and others) that this “reserved” temperament is a sign of intelligence. And another side benefit (if you see it as such) is that she’s not going to necessarily be the one to get all her friends to try drugs. (I love the “loser meter” idea! I’m keeping that one in mind.)
Also, I can’t believe you used chupacabra and bris milah in the same intro. Awesome.
I just can’t wait to see what type of google searches it will bring my way.
oh, my heart broke a little on that last sentence. but you guys ROCK and she obviously has a loser meter (we call ours the white trash measurer); she’ll be fine. good luck!
Funny, her WT meter goes off around me. I mean, come on. Coveralls? Argyle socks? The kid is doomed in more ways than one.
Mike, that was tough to read and probably tougher to live. Here’s a tip that you probably *won’t* hear from the crowd- martial arts.
There is something amazing about the rigidity of a good dojo classroom mixed with the physical contact. It emboldens the awkwardly shy and curbs the behavior of the “locusts”. I personally like Brazilian Jiu Jitsu because there is no striking for the kiddos- there seems to be a calming factor to the arts based in wrestling and grappling that isn’t there in the striking forms.
I know it sounds whacko but it works- many of the foster parents in our area use it therapeutically to help kids get a normal social life back.
Your kid doesn’t have to be paralyzed with shyness and it isn’t your fault if she is naturally shy. Try this and I think you’ll see the benefit.
Have a great Fathers Day and thanks for the soul bearing!
Casey at http://www.canvaspress.com
I agree with debinsf above. I have 2 daughters; the older one (now 11!) is extremely intelligent, but has only 2 friends that she ever talks about or does anything with. She wears clothes that are comfortable; she has never bought into the idea of being fashionable. She doesn’t care for the music the other kids listen to - no Hannah Montana for this girl. Her best friends are the books that she has her nose in constantly. She is content.
My other daughter (9 years old) is bright, but not nearly as bright as her sister. What she lacks in IQ points is greatly made up in social points. I get a full daily report on who played with whom on the playground. She just HAS to wear the cool clothes and listen to AJ and Ali (I think that’s their names); she needed to have her ears pierced because all the other girls did. She will cry inconsolably over the smallest social slight. Because she puts so much stock in having the right stuff to fit in, she is hardly ever content.
I think that it’s largely a matter of personality. Some kids do better with just one or two others around, while others need a gaggle of friends. Playgroups and classes are an excellent way of giving Emme opportunities to make friends without necessary forcing her to do so. She may enjoy a one-on-one playdate with a child she meets at a class more than group play. Just relax, and enjoy being with such a cutie. They grow up way too fast.
I have no advice whatsoever, but that damn near broke my bloody heart.
I think I can relate to this story. Not only am I an introvert, but one of my four boys is very shy as well. It even affects him in the classroom. He is very sweet and loving and doesn’t have a mean side to him.
We were concerned that something might be wrong with him and after some psychological tests and lots or research it looks like he has Sensory Integration Dysfunction. This is not the SIDS that causes babies to die, but is a disorder where the brain works slightly differnet with certain senses in our bodies. It is also stated that most children that have a somewhat aggressive case of this are much more intelligent, so thee is a positive future potentially.
There is a book that might help called “The Out-of-Sync Child: Recognizing and Coping with Sensory Integration Dysfunction”.
Hope this helps.
Doak at http://www.canvaspress.com
Oh my gosh.
I’m this way too. I didn’t used to be. I was an outgoing kid. I don’t know exactly where I lost it.
I worry about the same thing for our baby. Will he be born with the instinct to stand aside, or worse, will he learn it from me?
Thank you for the beautiful heartbreaker.
lovely story and you really do have a gift for writing. i too think it would be good to expose her to the same experience (ie library reading time) over and over so that she feels comfortable there. everyone is different, and while i am very outgoing and talk to everyone and anyone, that is not necessarily a good thing!! embrace that your daughter is like you! and could it not have been that she wanted YOU to find her?
your blog is making the rounds at work today. Seems alot of parents are identifying with you.
I agree with Casey at http://www.canvaspress.com but my experience is with kids getting to the board breaking point in martial arts.
Three weeks ago I was invited to watch two of my nephews try for a new belt in Tae Kwon Do. Both of them are fine and did advance by the way but, a friend of theirs in the class caught my attention.
He was a diferent kid than I remember from previose visits. He is still shy but the improvment was very noticable. I believe a lot of that is due to the quality of the teacher. I will be looking next time to see if that boy has improved even more.
Try martial arts if possible, it might be good for you also.
Personally, I wouldn’t worry too much. My son was painfully shy for years and years. We still joke about our “feral kids” who would hide in their rooms when we had company.
He is now 15 , plays sports and handles public situations fine. She will probably grow out of it a bit with more and more exposure to other kids etc.
I love your writing….it was a beautiful story and I could totally picture it as I was reading it.
Oh, that hurts. I’m a painfully awkward introvert, too, and often I’ve watched other people laughing together and wished I could “play” too. It’s a horrible feeling even as an adult. Poor Emme!
Library story-time doesn’t sound so bad. Clearly Emme’s a happy, healthy kid, but maybe more social interaction now will make it easier later?
Love your story and love your writing. I have a 2 1/2 year old, she was very much like Emme but everyday since she turned 2 1/2, she is a little more open. I don’t know that I want my daughter to be so friendly with everyone, I want her to have discernment and do what feels comfortable for her. From my experience, children have instincts and intuition that is beyond measure so I pay attention. I was an only child too for a while as my brother came 16 years later. There is something to be said of the first and only child, many of them are observers. I think it’s all good. I only attend weekly family groups too… my thought is that soon she will be going to nursery school and then to kindergarten etc., these are precious times we have with them and there is no reason to have them be socialized, gosh, they are only a toddler, (Mike - I am not speaking to you by the way as it seems like you are a great Dad from your writings, I am just speaking out loud), so all in good time, it will all be… how precious that we get to spend so much time with them and them with us. I think it’s great she gets to venture out and do things you do enjoy… playgrounds I think are overrated. When I take my daughter to playgrounds, she doesn’t seem to know what to do but when I take her hiking or creeks or other unstructured settings, she is at ease and she naturally opens up and ventures out. I noticed with my daughter that it is only after she turned 2 1/2 going on 3 that she is wanting to interact with other kids… until then she was playing in parallel, it is what they do and when they are ready, they interact and engage with each other, some kids do it earlier and some kids later. Again, this is no lecture, I am a mother-in-training, humbled everyday but I am sure you are doing GREAT, we all do our best! Keep writing - they are heartfelt and beautifully written.
This touched my heart so. My daughter is a bit older than Emme, but shares this reservation around other kids. She is often a quiet little observer as others play, and late to the punch when she finally musters up the nerve to join in. Emmeline is lucky to have a daddy like you who can tune into this and help her through it. I find often though, if I ask Hailey about her experience later, she reports to me that she had a great time doing what ever it was that all the kids were doing. So, in her mind, though a lot of experiences are overwhelming, she still gets something positive out of them. I know what you mean about not wanting to pass along certain things about yourself, but it’s inevitable…and think about it…you didn’t turn into all that horrible a person ;-). You are an amazing writer, able to capture the most intimate moments of life and share them with total strangers. That’s a gift, and I bet Emme’s ability to observe will foster the same one.
I know we all want the best for our children, and it’s hard to see them hurt, especially when we have endured that hurt ourselves. But don’t worry too much. You turned out okay.
I remember turning away– mostly from grownups– because they were looking at me when my mother introduced me. How rude!
I hated that they were looking at me. (I think I was 3 or 4.) But I had good friends growing up. Sure, it was usually just a couple at a time, but I still had *some*. I’m sure she’ll find some good friends playing in the bushes along the way. Hmm… that didn’t sound as sweet as I meant it to.
And some little girl like my daughter (who completely takes after her father and grandfather — makes friends with EVERYONE) will come up to her and say hi. And she can have friends that way, too.
*snort*
Sometimes finding friends in bushes IS sweet. But I know what you mean.
Thanks again to everyone for such heartfelt comments — we are reading every single one. Sometimes twice. So thank you!
This makes me want to reach through the internet and give your precious baby a giant bear hug. I was like that, too, as a child, and I think my parents are still regretting my growing out of that reserved and shy state. I know she’ll come out of her shell when she’s good and ready.
I was just talking about this with my colleague today–her daughter, 9, is painfully shy and her mom is so worried. My sister is also shy but once she made it through the school years she found a nice niche of friends, married a introverted guy, and they’re both just quite happy together. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, just difficult to watch.
My son has terrible social anxiety and he’s almost 8. His sister is a total extrovert, through and through.
Wow. Like many others, crying now.
My 2 year old, like my husband, is also painfully shy. It’s debilitating to watch. Our pediatrician has just suggested that we look into whether she has issues with sensory processing, which might make social situations more challenging for her. I’ve started reading this book: http://www.isitabigproblemorlittleproblem.com/ and I’m finding it helpful. I have no idea if this would resonate for you, but thought I’d pass it along just in case it’s helpful.
[...] really need to stop reading blogs at work Jump to Comments because this made me [...]
[...] I read this, I heard Emme’s voice in my head. No, I’ve never met her. But, I can hear a little [...]
I’m sitting in my office crying and crying.
I don’t know if this helps but I’m the same way. Painfully shy as a child I missed countless christmas’ and birthdays because I was sick in bed from “nerves”. That’s what my mom called it before we knew about anxiety disorder. I isolated myself in highschool and beyond and only through writing have I been able to kind of blossom and find people like me who have helped me come out of my shell. Still, I’m the girl who hides in the bathroom all the time and has to make herself be an extrovert and recover for days afterward. The thing that I’ve realized in the last few years though is that I’m not alone. There are many of us out there like you and me and Emmeline and that’s the reason why this weekend when I was supposed to be at a party I was cohosting and instead hid in the bathroom the whole time there were so many people in there with me…all with the same issue and all having a great time because they knew it was okay. It’s all about finding people who support you and understand the struggle and know that sometimes you just need to hide under a table. I prefer ones with long tableclothes.
Emmeline is lucky to have you and to have someone on her side that will understand and help her to either grow or to (like me) become comfortable with being “the weird girl in the bathroom”. She won’t be alone.
I’m here via TheBloggess, who posted a link on Twitter to this entry. I have a million things to do but something told me to click. I’m glad I did. This is the most beautiful thing I have read in a while. Thank you for putting out here for us to find, read and enjoy.
Your daughter is beautiful.
*sniffle, sniffle*
I never knew that the hardest thing about parenting was going to be watching our children struggle with the same challenges we faced, knowing deep down that we can’t shelter them from the hurt, we can’t soothe the aching need to belong, we can’t prevent them from repeating our mistakes. But what we can do is provide them with the safe place to return, the safety net, the support to find their own place in the world, the unconditional love.
Although Emme was intimidated, I think it’s wonderful that she did try in the end. She’ll come out of her shell when she’s ready.
I totally get this. I have social anxiety issues as well. When my oldest was younger (he’s now 6 1/2), he was incredibly ill-at-ease around other kids. I would watch him hang back at a playground or other kiddie play place and it would hurt me because I remember being that way too.
At preschool he didn’t play with other kids and I worried that he had inherited my socially inept ways. But after he turned 4 and a half, something seemed to click over in him. Now he makes friends at the park, he loves to have playdates, he is incredibly social. People don’t believe me now when I tell them stories about how he used to be.
(Here from Good Mom/Bad Mom.)
Roo is like that in playground situations and at parties. She’s 4 and incredibly talkative and lively at home, but she disappears into herself in big groups of kids. With big groups of adults, she is totally fine. And at preschool, apparently, she’s the kid to sit next to.
I have no idea what to think, but it is just heartbreaking to watch your kid isolate themselves on purpose when you know they want to play. Especially when mommy and daddy were antisocial, miserable teens…
Aaaaagh… nothing like a little light sobbing for a Sunday morning. This hit too close to home.
…or you could have a kid who is the total opposite extreme, and wants to befriend everyone in the world and will run up to anyone and say “Will you play with me?”. There is a downside to this because it opens them up to lots of rejection, which is heartbreaking as well.
I think that Emme is just fine if she’s happy in her shyness. Got here from Good Mom/Bad Mom, I really enjoyed reading this post.
Got her from Good Mom/Bad Mom and you made me cry!
I so know what both of these things are like. I’m the one hiding in the bathroom at dinner parties and I have four children that I have prayed and prayed would not be like me (they’re mostly not, at least not as bad as I).
I used to get anxious around strangers, but then I married an extravert (a true extravert) and I learned how be comfortable in my own skin and basically laugh at myself and my wierdness.
I also have found that around my friends I am totally cool and comfortable and the same things goes for my two and half year old. Around kids she does not know she is a little shy and sometimes will yell at then to go away or stop invading her space. Which is kinda refreshing because how often do people invade my space when I don’t want them to. But, sometimes it just takes a little coaxing and on my part and it helps if I play along.
My daughter spends time around kids w/ out me at my health club’s nursery, and I think it has been a good thing because she is hanging out w/ kids apart from me. Like some of the previous folks have said (assvice warning) the more she is around kids the more she will flourish and she does not have to like everyone, but she will find the kids she connects with. Good luck.
What gets me through my anxiety is knowing that everyone has their own issues.
Oh and great post by the way.
Oh wow. Found this post on Good/Mom bad mom. This was beautiful and heartbreaking all at the same time.
I heard your Perspective on KQED this morning and found myself here later in the day. I’ll echo what others have said–this absolutely broke my heart. I don’t have kids yet, but I already dread passing on my shyness to my kids. It’s my primary fear about becoming a parent.
My daughter is the same but goes in waves (of severely shy to moderately shy!) depending on what she’s working on developmentally. Learning to sound out 3 letter words? Must sit on Mommy’s lap at the library story time and suck thumb.
But take the girl for Venice for 7 days and she’s saying buongiorno to everyone on the vaporetto home (at 9pm!) Now back in BC and she’s clammed right up again… Born in the wrong country perhaps? Or maybe she was giddy with jetlag…
Although after avoiding all contact at her toddler gym class she did play with two kids at the playground today, … I think they were speaking Turkish…
Saved me from having to join in the mom conversation too!
[...] of the few BlogHim’s at the conference, Mike Adamick! He blogs in a bunch of places, including the SF Chronicle. Main takeaway? Cell [...]
Sounds like your daughter has my personality. One book that helped me was ‘Loner’s Manifesto’. Sure, join the play groups and all, but she’ll probably never be a social butterfly. Accept your daughter for who she is.
[...] 6. Mike Adamick of Cry It Out asks, Don’t all kids play in vacant warehouses? [...]
This was one of my favorite keynotes. I’m not just saying that. I loved it. That’s why I tracked it down. (and got annoyed when people thought the calling from the bushes was meant to be funny while you read it. Sorry they laughed. It was so poignant and moving. I totally got it.)
I have a boy who took on my nervous nail-biting ways. I hurt every time he stands to the side, biting back tears.
Thank you.
I’m so glad the BlogHer Keynote thingy happened, or I might not have found my way here. Love the post, love the blog. And you were great.
It’s raining out right now and I am crying buckets-I so wish i could have attended blogher09 just to have met you…loved your post
I often think I’m the weirdest, strangest soul - who doesn’t love to chat, who likes to be alone, who has spent far too much time wallpaper staring myself. Hiding in the bathroom until the party is mostly over. I drive across town to the grocery where there is no chance of running into people I might know. Or go to vacant parks of my own. It all seems psychotic and abnormal to me - but figured out why - because the ones with the phobias and fears aren’t out there talking about it. Like they are going to be the ones up on the stage sharing. Or pushing their memoirs to their publisher. Thanks to blogs - the word is getting out. I’m not alone in the being alone, feeling alone - so I never have to be alone, being alone. Now I’m just being silly - but seriously, your post really moved me - so honest and well-written.
What a sweetheart of a daughter you have.