Unexpected Friendships

A funny thing happened to me on the way to school one morning a few years back.  In my normal panic-stricken ‘hurry up’ and drop Caitlin, my oldest, at school on time, I collided with the strangest twist of fate never contemplated.  I was doing double time from the car with my black pumps clickity- clacking on the pavement.  Their noise was bouncing off the wall making it sound like we were inside a movie theater watching a shoot ‘em up film, when I ran head on into the PTA President.  Her mere presence stood me still.   She was ONE OF THEM, Webster’s definition of Mother Perfection.  I, myself, am found a few pages earlier in Webster’s under, ‘Flaws’ and what might be considered questionable.  I quivered and contemplated an escape, but none presented themselves readily that wouldn’t have been clearly a violation of good manners in the school hallway.  Caitlin had come home a few weeks earlier telling me of a new friend, and the possibility of a play date.  I donned my James Bond tuxedo, poured myself a Martini and set out to investigate.  Caitlin had befriended the PTA President’s daughter - the sheer audacity.  Boarding school in England would be her punishment.

 “Mommy, I made a new friend today, her name is Marie.  She wants to come over to our house and play.  Is that ok?”  Caitlin paddled in to my room, stated her request without ever considering me, her mother.  How was she to know I am terrified of all Moms, even though I am a card carrying member of the same union?

I managed to avoid the situation and the President for a few weeks.   I was operating under the guise if you don’t think about it and pretend it’s not there that it will eventually go away.  Of course, this strategy had never worked before but I was holding out for a miracle.  I have always worked outside the home and have never mastered the fine art of school Mom socializing.  Frankly, it terrifies me, and I’d rather stand in front of a CEO or an angry client than sit in a room full of school Moms struggling to make conversation.  I wither and forget English is my first language.  I’m not sure, but I think I have drooled uncontrollably a couple of times during random encounters with other Moms.   I double over in fits and convulsions remembering the afternoon I attended a meeting to become a Girl Scout leader – FAILURE is stamped on that file in my memory catalogue.  There you have it, I am a coward.  Also, I think working inside the home is the hardest job ever BECAUSE there is no designated quitting time.  The benefits are questionable, pay is irregular, there is no sick pay or regular holiday schedule, in short, the union for that line of work needs an overhaul.   Standing in the presence of successful ‘work-in-the-home’ Moms only fuels my fear.

There we stood, me a trapped animal with no way of escape, facing the white lion.  I inhaled, first filling the lower part of my lungs, pushing forward the front walls of my abdomen and feeling the air traveling upward to the middle part of the lungs, pushing out the lower ribs, breastbone and chest as if I were puppet being unfolded.  I was toy soldier-rigid as our eyes made contact. 

“Hello!”  We said in unison.

We exchanged preliminaries, how do you dos, and the basic 411 two people might offer up during a night of speed dating.  By the end we agreed on a date and location for the girls' play date.  Now to make matters worse, it was at my house.  I felt sick and wondered if I should feign illness, stay home and arrange for cleaners, painters and Mary Poppins to come by and whip up some magic.   We were new in the neighborhood, and the house was a recent purchase.  We bought from the original owners who had been living in it since 1948, and it had not updated since the ‘70’s.  Scary is an understatement.   I saw my life flash before me and thought of poor Caitlin.  She would be labeled and would never be invited to have a play date again.   Too early for a bottle of Gin, and the sparkles in Caitlin’s velvet brown colored eyes looking up at me told me there was no way I could back out, I swallowed back my fear and made a plea to Mary Poppins anyway.

The day arrived, both Mom and daughter showed up at 4:00 PM on a Friday afternoon, and the President and I shared two hours together.  She was suppose to drop and run, but we found we had a lot to say to one another, we talked and talked, like bees buzz, buzz, buzzing around a blooming wall of honeysuckle.  And so it went over the next few months, the girls would meet to play and the PTA President and I would chatter endlessly.  Over the years and as the girls blossomed and moved away from one another, not so far as they stopped being friends, but they grew into who they are and ventured outside their friendship, the Pres and I remained connected, never too far away from the safe harbor we provided for one another.  The unexpected gift from the least likely place made me pause to reconsider the sisterhood of Moms.  Stand down, it was the briefest of pauses.  I know a good thing when I see it and have been around long enough to know that rolling doubles back-to-back is rare. 

   How was I to know the President’s husband was a General Contractor, and her house was also in progress?  Who knew despite our completely different personas, day jobs, and unique lifestyles that we would become the closest of friends?  Me and the President dropped our shields and found true friendship in one another.  It was as unexpected as a snow storm in downtown Los Angeles in August.   Mistaken indentities, misconceptions, and PTA Presidents are not always who they seem.

I am still terrified when I walk into a room of Moms at school, but less so these days.  My 'bestie' pushes me forward, urging me on to explore the possibilities, such as Soccer and Swim team duties - we both agreed after I shared the Girl Scouts travesty with her I didn’t have to try that one ever again.  And me, I took her shopping and explained the subtle nuances of purchasing good bras and jeans that fit.  Today she is taking a photography class and exploring her identity outside of being a Mom.  We both laugh at our mishaps and mistaken identities, and the first moment in the hallway.  Turns out she was as terrified as I was – she thought of me as the cover girl of Corporate Weekly.  Who knew?

Our girls still marvel at our friendship, as do others I am sure, but in my own way I like to think it’s a good life lesson we have given our girls.  Both have asked over the years about our friendship and why it sustains given our deltas.  It’s a door opening and the chance to be philosophical on the mysteries of life and those lessons that are not always possible to teach to our children. Sometimes illustrating a life lesson by living it large is better than explaining.

My friend has her own version of the story of course, and even after all this time, and knowing what I know, she still stands me still.