I’ve got a buddy

by doodaddy on March 12, 2007

A nine-foot, greasy-haired, smirking intruder sneaked into the house last night and shaved Boobaby’s head. In other news, I’ve got a buddy!

The scary stalker was from a horribly bad dream I had last night. Working Mom & I compared notes this morning and it seems we both get dreams wherein we’re stalked: she by lions, I by sneaky, unfriendly, self-important people. Makes sense: I work with wild animals and kids, she works with adults.

The whole nightmare left me really fragile this morning. I make WM cover for me at a meeting with our lawyer — it’s some nasty house stuff that she (of course) handled magnificently, whereas I would have been reduced to a melted pile of jabbering goo. I got to handle a Boobaby who was fussy from the heat, but at least it wasn’t a lawyer. WM and I both think we got the best side of the bargain.

Still, it was clearly going to be a challenging day, so I knew we had to make it to the playground. As we arrived, I saw my friend in front, also on her way in. She waved, I waved, she emoted, I emoted, we shared babies for a while, and suddenly from being way off-balance and shaky I was on my way back to centered. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to feel like I’ve got a buddy at the playground. It’s better than coffee and Advil, my usual remedy.

Friendship is so funny. It can’t be created intentionally (ever try to make someone your friend when there was no chemistry?), but it also can’t be left entirely on its own. It just sort of happens, but it’s also cultivated. You can go for months without it and not feel its lack until it comes back into your life. And when it does, your life just balloons into a new, larger place.

To whom it may concern up there: Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Share and Enjoy: These icons link to social bookmarking sites where readers can share and discover new web pages.
  • email
  • Facebook
  • Digg
  • del.icio.us
  • StumbleUpon
  • Bloglines

tagged as in friends ·

{ 4 comments… read them below or add one }

Bryan March 19, 2007 at 9:11 am

I understand the feeling. I stayed at home with my son for 2 years before I had to go back to work. It was tough going to the park for days on end and seeing the same mothers who would NEVER talk to me. Then one day, someone did and it felt great.

Amazingly, when my wife would come to the park with us on the weekend, those same moms would chat away with her. Maybe it is because I am grossly deformed and have trouble speaking clearly. No wait, that is the Elephant Man. I am normal human shaped. What was their deal? No idea.

Hang in there. There are SAHD’s everywhere. Maybe one day, we’ll just be called Dads, and no one will ask us to qualify and clarify why we are not at work.

Reply

doodaddy March 19, 2007 at 12:15 pm

@Bryan – Sigh, I know. A major part of my struggle is that I tend to prefer the company of SAH moms to SAH dads. (That’s happenstance, not any particular prejudice — I’d LOVE to meet a cool SAHD or two.)

It’s a shame, but we live in a society where women are socialized (often with good reason) to shun unknown men. I take Boo to a music and movement class (lots of singing and wiggling and whatnot), and at today’s class when we were all rolling on the floor, I noticed three women rotate their bodies and/or pull down their shirts so that I wouldn’t have a midriff view. (Which, incidentally, I haven’t gone out of my way to see since I was about 19.) I don’t think they were consciously ostracizing me; they were just behaving as they’d been raised to, to be safe.

I’m toying with the idea, actually, of NOT calling myself a SAHD anymore, but a stay-at-home “parent.” Obviously it means the same thing when the speaker is male, but perhaps there’s a little less emphasis on the maleness of the role.

Hm.

Thanks for your comment…

Dd.

Reply

aimee/greeblemonkey March 19, 2007 at 4:38 pm

OK, I am wife of Bryan, who pointed him to this blog, which I have no idea where I found but I am totally digging it because you sound very much like the aforementioned Bryan. But I just got completely weirded out because Bryan signs every single email with his initials such as this: “Bg”

Reply

doodaddy March 19, 2007 at 5:41 pm

@Aimee the greeblemonkey~

Maybe… just maybe… I am Bryan. This is an anonymous blog, you know. It could be me!

Dd.

P.S. Your young man is quite the looker. Think we could set him up with Boobaby in say… 16 years?

P.P.S. Is it cool to be able to say “The Wife of Bryan”?

Reply

Leave a Comment

{ 6 trackbacks }

Previous post:

Next post: