Wavering

There are many benefits to being a part of a small school district. I won't go into all of them, mostly because they are boring. Anyone with larger than a pea pod inside their skull can figure out the reasons small schools have a lot going for them. Much like living in a small town though, there are drawbacks, because life is all about trade-offs.

The greater reality of these trade-offs has come to my attention much more with Booie in school. She's too young to walk to school on her own. At first, even walking with Hammy was not a responsible option, and she couldn't walk home with him since she only attends school a half day. I whined and complained with unsurpassed bravado about having to get up, dressed and out the door each morning, but it was good for me, and I adjusted. The part for which I wasn't prepared was having to be social.

It started with greeting the neighbor each morning and walking in the great crowd of children that grew along the way to school. Crossing guard greetings were also a part of this ritual. As I became more acquainted with the neighbor and crossing guards, conversation expanded. At after-school pick-ups, mothers got to know each other and talked while waiting for their children. It wasn't too bad. It was kind of nice not to be such an anti-social outcast, but it never got comfortable either.

I'm not very good with small talk. I don't know good questions to ask besides the standard, "How are you?" or "How was your weekend?" sort of thing. "What do you do?"/"Where do you work?" doesn't work very well amongst that crowd since most have the same job I do. Unlike people in other professions, we don't discuss the similarities of our work or share hints and tips. Or maybe I'm out of the loop. Usually, I just keep quiet and listen or answer questions and give the standard hellos. Chalk this awkwardness up to another reason I am not cut out to be a mom; at least a typical mom.

Maybe I'm just too young, considering the ages of my children. Even mothers with children younger than my own are older than I am. I've even been called a baby (not in a derogatory sense) by one mother and told, "Oh, you're too young to remember that," and similar things by others. It's not like I was a teenager when I gave birth to my first child, and I was 26 by the time the second was born, but I'm a bit green I guess when compared to the other mothers of Kindergarteners. I suppose it's the whole idea of waiting until you're more mature to have children that has become so common, but it makes me feel a bit of a freak, not that there aren't other things that contribute to that feeling.

I'm a bit different. How do I know this without conversing with other people? I listen. I'm not Catholic. I'm not even a churchgoer. I'm not Republican or Democrat. My kids are not the center of my universe, though they are important to me. I'm not from Pittsburgh. I'm not even from Pennsylvania. I recycle more than anyone I've seen in this neighborhood. Our trash pile is smaller than some two-member households. I say bad words. I don't enjoy gossip. We only own one vehicle. I get along with men better than women. I would rather my kids see sex on TV than violence. I limit the hours of television my kids can watch to two, and they will never be allowed a TV in their rooms. And lastly, I'm a big slob. I have yet to find out someone's house is in worse shape than mine.

Despite all my differences, I know I have similarities, and I do try not to alienate anyone. That's why I wave at all the crossing guards and people I know while driving my kids to and from school. Honestly, I'd rather make small talk with the crossing guards while walking, because this waving business has me in a tizzy. I feel like it's kind of silly to wave each and every time you see a person, especially when you pass her four times each day in the case of the crossing guard. And some guards I know less than others, but sometimes even they wave. I know it's a nice, friendly gesture, but when I'm crabby, tired and looking like the sandbag man whopped me in the head the previous night, I'd rather just glower straight ahead and mutter under my breath. But I wave. I almost always wait for them to wave first, but I wave, and I put on the smile, even when I feel like I have no guts left, like this morning.

This causes me such fret, and it's so ridiculous. Maybe I need some Paxil or something, but why is it just the waving? Can you see that doctor's visit?