As The Freaky World Turns

Two years ago, on the first day of school in a brand new town, my then 8-year old returned home jubilant in the fact that he'd made a new friend on the bus! This friend, for matters of privacy, I'll call Billy. Turns out Billy lives just down the street, which in our neck of the woods or as the crow flies means: across a meadow, over a creek, through a stand of oak trees, through a smaller meadow and into the back forty of Billys property! A perfect trek for two 8 year old adventurers. This friendship blossomed as did the friendship of the four adults involved. Billy's dad was a wealth of information in all things country living. He owns a tractor, a truck, is as equally skilled with a table saw as he is with a golf club. Billy's mom, so I thought, was a like minded, no-nonsense mom with lots of referrals for the good doctors, dentists and grocery stores. (I turned a blind eye to her appreciation of white zinfandel.)

However, last summer, the phone calls stopped and the playdates came to a screeching halt. I thought perhaps they may have gone back home to "Ohio" for the summer or at least for an extended stay. There were several more attempts at making contact. Then, back at school in the fall, I finally saw my friend from across the courtyard at a school function. As I approached her she abruptly turned in the other direction and avoided my contact. Hmm. Curious, but I thought nothing of it; perhaps she just didn't see me.

It wasn't until my entire family was out for a walk. We strolled past their house and they were outside. There was a sudden feeling of complete clarity when Billy's father simply looked at us and offered what I call, The Carolina Nod. Nothing more than a simple acknowlegement that I was in his presence. No 'howdy-do, how was your summer? ' No 'beautiful day, ain't it?' None of the normalcies that one might encounter when passing by a neighbor who is standing a mere 4 feet away.

After a couple of sleepless nights over the blatant disregard, I decided to make the phone call. I left a simple message stating that clearly there was some animosity and that I'd like the opportunity to either explain myself or apologize. Graham misses Billy's friendship, so, for the sake of our sons won't she please tell me what we've done wrong?? I offered the opportunity to call me back, email me, or if it's completely unfixable then continue to ignore me.
The explanation has, so far, never come. Almost a full school year later, I still haven't the slightest idea why we are suddenly not on speaking or even acknowledging terms.

Then, in a turn of events this week, Graham came home with an invitation to Billy's sleepover birthday party. It's a printed invitation, with Graham's name, in adult handwriting. Surely, not an oversight or an unintended inclusion. Graham is beside himself with glee and excitement over a sleepover at Billy's. He knows of four other boys that will be there as well. Which, in my evil mind, is quite a relief. My over active imagination has already written, filmed and produced the horror movie that goes along with this scenario. Point is, while being true to myself and my dignity, how do I drop my son for a full 24 hour stay, in someone's home who is blatantly not speaking to me, or allowing our children to play together? Does she, like me, lay awake at night wondering just exactly what she'll say to me? Will I simply check my feelings and hurt at the door? Will I even be asked to walk through that door? And mostly am I condoning such behavior by the mere fact of ignoring it and pretending like all is right with our world? Life was supposed to be so simple when we left the hustle and bustle of Long Island.


Words to Live By:

As parents we have an obligation to model healthy and mature behaviors to our children. (Notwithstanding the occasional outburst of anger due to shoes left, once again, right in the middle of the entryway rather than in the shoe basket!)