Here's a quandary about women

You would think that me, a person that has conversations for a living, wouldn't be so intimidated by talking with her.

Yet there it is.

When I was talking with her, I found myself repeating bits of small talk I always use. Calling up tried and true stories to get a laugh. Stories to make a quick point and encapsulate who I am. Yet when that was done, I found myself adding bits and pieces and talking too much.

This blog has spoiled me. I don't have to practice any sort of give and take with this conversation. I can talk to you and myself anytime I please. Mostly I talk to me. When I need to, I seek out the other blogs, leave a comment. It's kind of selfish.

But back to her. Last week I made it a point to fill my daughter's social needs. I arranged a playdate. And unexpentantly I found myself curious about the other mom. She sounded relaxed and assured. Kind even. Then she showed up tonight. She is cultured and unique. Has a bit of personality. Kids the same age. Cool hair and calm sense about her. She is like me.

I don't have a great track record when it comes to women friends. I seem to attract the wrong type. Either needy or mean or unstable. I had picked a few good ones when I was living in the big city. But then I left that big city about a year ago.

When I left, I left them. It was ok, we sort of new it was coming. There was really no point in keeping it up. I mean, they don't have kids. I don't anticipate ever going back to the city just to 'visit'. That city is two hours away. So we said goodbyes.

So now my task is to act on the impulse. The impulse of procuring a friendship with this woman. My social skills are a bit rusty due to the two factors noted above.

But tonight, talking to her, the more I talked, the more I talked. I talk WAY TOO much when I am nervous. I go off the written script in my head. I find myself acting even. This is no good. But she lingered. We talked. And talked. About surface things. About simple things but we talked and she was in no hurry to leave when she was picking her daughter up.

If she is who I think she is, then I want to be her friend and I want her to be mine. To take the next step with a guy is easy.

You just lay a big kiss on him.

But that is not what I am interested in.

The next step is having them over for cards. Her and her husband. My first married friend with kids possible friend. Who is cultured and unique. They just relocated from that big city we moved from.

Two blocks away.

No kidding!

So, that's my quandary. How do women know if they have things in common? How do we let each other know if we want to be more than just 'Mom" friends, that we want to be real friends?

jeez! Why are women so complicated?

:)

Mary, the new secretary at work, is working my last nerve

First, let me clarify something. Mary isn’t the new secretary, just new to me. I’ll be working between two clinics, starting today. Mary works the front desk at my new clinic.

And.

As of right now, Mary is working my last nerve.

Lord help me, here goes.

First of all, she called me during my vacation last week. Which is not that big of a deal. Except she called twice.

The first call was ok. She wanted to know if I needed directions to the clinic or needed to know which door to come into. She wanted to let me know the ‘girls’ were ordering out for lunch so I needn’t bring one. Which is fine. Nice to see she is looking after things.

Except I already did a dry run to the clinic. Got my keys two weeks ago. I explain this to her. She doesn’t quite know how to take it. I thank her for her concern.

And the lunch? Gah. Everyone I work with , everyone who is female, is large and middle aged. This won’t happen to me because I yoga and weight watchers. So no, I don’t want to order out. Because the bigger women at my work order fatty yucky stuff. Stuff that makes you bloated and yuck. But, I say nothing. I will do my best to order out healthy. Not sure what I can do about preventing middle age though.

But then. Gah.

Lord help me, help me understand this woman

She didn’t take no for an answer. She kept pestering me about meeting me somewhere on the highway, or at the door and blah, blah, blah… it’s a small clinic people. Not a humungo hospital. There are like 10 parking spots total. And even if was a huge, mammoth hospital, I can figure it out. I talk her down. She chills and wishes me well. I thank her for her concern and politely hang up.

Then she calls me back.

THIS IS WHERE I START TO GET A LITTLE PISSY.

She says I need to know about my schedule. Did I know that I have THIRTEEN PATIENTS ON MONDAY AND OH MY GOD EIGHT NEW PATIENTS ON TUESDAY? She is in panic mode. Fuckin a’, I’m on vacation here Mary.

I tell her YAH, I KNOW MY SCHEDULE ALREADY. I have already prepped for my first day back. And really, I don’t care what’s on my schedule anyway. MY JOB IS TO SEE PATIENTS. I DON’T CARE WHO COMES IN. I have a certain amount of slots open AND REALLY, I HOPE THEY ALL GET FILLED CAUSE IT’S MY JOB. To see patients. I talk her down YET AGAIN. And then hang up.

I really like a full schedule. I like being busy. And working in a mental health clinic, it makes sense to pack your schedule because half the patients no show anyway. It’s just the nature of who we work with.

Also, I am a nurse. Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner even. I can handle anything. It’s a matter of training and my innate laid back personality traits. And nothing really rattles me.

That is the truth by the way. Nothing rattles me while I am on the job.

Except Mary rattles me.

Lord help me accept the things I cannot change . . . .

Mary is a unrepentant caretaker. I would bet a million dollars she has been in an abusive or co-dependant relationship. It appears she has an absolute need to mother hen those around her. And feels the consummate need to be taking care of. I am not interested in any of it.

And change the things I cannot accept . . .

So, I’ve got some extra work to do today. I have to let Mary know; in no uncertain terms, what I am interested in. I am interested in being left alone and to my own devices. I do not want my hand held. I do not want to be helped unless I ask.

The hard part of this task, is not being all girl about it. Women don’t talk to each other directly. We do a lot of communication in other ways. (don’t get me started on fucking postit notes).

I’ve worked with all men before. They talk to each other without saying things like, “I’m sorry but….” Or “Don’t be mad, but I . . .” and so forth. Men say stuff like, “Knock it off, you’re being a dumbass.” Or “Stop fucking with my stuff.” Then they do the guy nod and nothing more is said.

We, however, apologize all the damn time and often nothing is accomplished. Because we have to keep talking about it. Cause we are not direct communicators.

LIKE WHEN SHE CALLED ME TWICE.

And lord give me the wisdom to know the difference.

So, today, when I feel her smother hen energy come my way I will be direct and firm. I will put up my hand and say, “Mary, there is no need for that.” And if she continues to pester I will say, “Mary, knock it off, your working my last nerve! Step off!!”

Epilogue:

SIGH. Guess what else I learned during those phone calls?

The woman lives about two blocks away. Guess who I will be carpooling with two days a week??

Lord help us all ;)

Why are women so complicated? I mean really, why?

This and so many other fabulous photos are ripe for the picking from Bruce Johnson, the mastermind behind this blog: Hypocrisy

My sister in law, my mother in law, my husband, me and the kids were all in the same city for the weekend. The city called Cedartown. The city we moved from about a year ago.

Mr. Hall still works there one weekend a month and a few days a week. This weekend was his one weekend a month. I had taken the kids down for an overnight hotel stay because I miss Mr. Hall. The kids miss their Daddy. And hotels are awesome fun.

Me and the kids were to leave Cedarton right after Sunday Brunch. This is where it got retarded in between me and the other women folk mentioned above..

MY SISTER IN LAW, JANET, ASKS A QUESTION:

Janet asked me if I could bring the kids to her mother's (my MIL's) house and stay a while after the kids and I had Sunday brunch. That way, when Mr. Hall got out of work, everyone could go out to dinner.

I briefly and politely tried to explain why I was not going to do this. Again, this is where it gets all retarded. Janet didn't understand my reasons for saying no. Nor was she accepting them.

Much discussion on many cell phones occurred wherein my SIL tried to explain why and how I could spend the day in the city with the kids. And then stay for the dinner with the family. Many discussions, many women folk having them.

Here is my sister in law by the way. Note the blonde hair. My husband's grandparents were from Austria. Hence the blonde children that I, a dark haired vixen, bore so happily. That's my daughter on the right.



Also of note in this photo, the big brown horse. That horse is one of two Janet owns. She is, by all accounts, an accomplished horsewoman. She is gracious enough to share this passion with my daughter when we visit.

That being said, Janet has no children. She is married to an awesome guy. They really don't want kids and they are very happy taking trips to Costa Rica, going to horse competitions, taking trips to Spain and doing other fabulous, being married without children things. Like sleeping in whenever they damn well please.

Le Sigh.

I miss sleeping in.

I did not sleep in that Sunday, the Sunday she asked me to stay. Mr. Hall left early that morning. Like four am early. He rose, dressed by the light of his cell phone and left. He was going to be at work for the rest of the day. He gave me a pat on the tush as he left. And a peck on the cheek. tee hee hee...

The kids stirred about two hours later. Like six am later. Too damn early later. It was warm and cute and I love them no matter what.

I love them so much I drove 2.5 hours to Cedartown so they could spent the evening with their Daddy. Because he still divides his time between here and Cedartown. But I have the kids all the time and this requires effort. More effort then I ever thought I was capable of. The kids make it easy though. They were so awesome this weekend. But, that's another post.

Janet has no idea the amount of effort kids take because she doesn't have any. She doesn't understand how the kids can take effort, even if we're just 'sitting around' at her mother's house.

She doesn't understand because they don't take the kids and say, "Hey Holly, I got the kids, you go take a nap." Or, "Hey I'll take them to the Zoo, you go get a pedicure." Or, "Hey, go take a long shower, I'll play trains with Mac. I got this." Also, they never chase the kids around so Mac won't break all the antiques my mother in law has. All breakable priceless figurines. Everywhere.

Because people without kids don't have babyproof houses. But that's another post.


So.

That Sunday was this Sunday. This Sunday was spent having a fabulous brunch with just the kids and me. Then we packed everything up and took two trips to the car. Everyone had to carry something. Mac carried his train and a singular diaper. Pancake carried a big ziploc bag of markers and her unicorn. I carried everything else, gently coaching them to turn here and turn there. Watch out of cars.... don't keep pressing the elevator buttons . . . .

The brunch was truly fabulous, but that is another post.

Then, after we were all packed and strapped in, we left for home. The kids were passed out before we left the parking lot. All sleepy with syrup love.

And we drove home.






And still, Janet has no idea why I said no. ;)