One Dazed and Confused Mama Stops Trying


On Saturday afternoon, my 8-year-old son Gobez and I settled in to watch 9-year-old sister Didi play basketball. The coach on the opposing team looked vaguely familiar.

I poked Gobez in the ribs. "Does that guy have a kid on your soccer team?" I asked, gesturing as discreetly as I could.

"I don't know," he muttered. "I don't exactly pay attention to the parents."

I'm embarrassed to admit that I don't exactly pay attention to the parents either. Like most busy moms, I struggle to make it through each hectic day, and important information is perpetually falling through the cracks, like the names and faces of good, decent people.

Before my husband and I adopted our children (one from India, two from Ethiopia), I joked that we were destined to be THAT family in our little town of 25,000 -- as in, "that family with the black kids." It hasn't turned out to be quite like that, but we do tend to stand out in people's minds, partly because we look different, and partly because the kids are just so darn friendly. Almost every week, a stranger greets me in Trader Joe's like an old pal.

"We met you and your family at Jamba Juice awhile ago," a bubbly mom might say. "The kids all played tag on the sidewalk together. We had such a great time!"

I just smile and nod in confusion.

There's one very sweet grandpa I see everywhere; he even knows my name! He never fails to ask about the children; apparently my kids and his grandkids enjoyed a spontaneous good time in the park three or four years ago. It's disorienting not to be able to recall all these kind strangers, but I'm training myself to make the most of the reunions.

I'm also training myself not to feel guilty about my overloaded brain. Consider this:

3 kids x 3 classrooms = 100+ parents per school year

100 parents x 7 combined years of elementary school = 700+ parents encountered, give or take a few dozen repeat contacts

3 kids x 6 sports teams per year = a harder math problem than I can handle at the moment

And here's another dirty little secret: even after four seasons of soccer and basketball, I still don't know how many players are required for each sport. Frankly, I don't care. If I get the right kid to the right game at the correct time and place, my work is done. Please don't ask me to learn the rules, either.

"How's your soccer player?" a smiling woman asks in the coffee shop.

"Great," I answer. I have no idea which kid she is talking about.


At last weekend's basketball game, I had the good fortune to sit next to someone I do actually remember, a lovely woman I'll call Sarah. My friend and I have a lot in common; we both have three children in elementary school playing on multiple sports teams. Unlike me, Sarah grew up in this community, so I assume she has an edge when it comes to remembering folks. Then again, she's also a school principal, which means she's an A-list local celebrity with even more contacts.

"What's the name of your daughter's coach?" I asked her. "I think I know him."

"Oh man," Sarah sighed. " I don't know."

"That makes me feel good," I said. "I assumed you're better at this than me."

"People ask me to sign their school permission slips in the grocery store. I have no idea who they are. I just sign."

I wanted to hug her.

As the game broke up, I noticed Gobez chatting with the dad/coach he'd claimed not to know, and all the sudden it hit me: not only did the guy have a kid on our soccer team, we've even carpooled a couple times!

"Nice to see you, Paul," I said.

Lesson learned: miracles can happen when you just stop trying.

5 comments:

  1. I laughed when I read about the grandpa that always remembers you. I'm a (very young) grandma myself, and one of the perks of being a grandparent is that, this time around, we get to be 100% engaged in all things the grandkids are doing and involved in. I always give the example that when I was a parent, I can remember sitting at the kids' games, mentally multi-tasking while watching the game - "what's for dinner?", "what time do I need to leave here to get to the other ball field on time?", "will my husband remember to pick up the dog at the groomer before they close?"... you get the idea. But, as the grandparent, when I'm sitting at that game watching the grandchild, I am thinking about NOTHING else. I am completely wrapped up in the moment, the rest of life can just wait. And that, my friends, is the ultimate reward for all those(tough, crazy, wonderful) years of parenting. My saying, "Grandparenting is like a 2nd chance at parenting, only this time, you have time and money". I'm going to remember every second.

    Love you blog. I'd love for you to check out mine.

    Allie
    http://24inmymind.blogspot.com

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  2. OK, I'm not illiterate. After I clicked 'post', I realized I typed "love YOU blog" - I meant "YOUR". It's been a long day.

    Allie

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  3. Thanks, Allie! Wonderful to have the grandparent perspective!

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  4. Phew! I am feeling much better now. LOL We, too, are one of those families that stands out and everyone seems to remember us and enjoy talking to us. Trader Joe's is a focal point in this for us, too, ironically. I feel awful about forgetting everyone's names, but with four little ones, I'm just trying to stay afloat and keep moving forward. Nice to know I'm not alone! www.andykiara.blogspot.com

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  5. Yes - same here! We are very visible (being transracial) but my husband is also a gregarious guy that makes everyone feel like they are best friends. So everyone thinks that. Really. And I just nod and smile.

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