Did you know that I H-A-T-E feeling like I am in between a rock and that proverbial hard place (whatever that means)? I also H-A-T-E having the ball in my court, especially when it's a ball I don't want in the first place.
In a nutshell, I have been cursed with a fresh, new playdate situation that might require more Xanax. How do I get myself into these things? Oh yeah, I'm a parent. Of a very social six year old girl. At the last classmate's birthday party (remember the one with the snake charmer?), one of the moms cornered me and put me on the spot about arranging a play date between our two daughters.
I was caught. Cue deer in the headlights position. My brain checked its files and came up with no plausible excuses real-time. I responded with my usual vagueness (it's a defense mechanism), which did not deter her at all. She pushed some more. Before I realized what I was doing, I nodded and asked if she had my phone number. She did.
Didn't she know this is a BIG fat hairy deal for me? That letting my daughter go over to someone's house I don't know very well pushes me close to the edge of the very scary ledge called sanity? Didn't she pick up on the fake smile, sure, yeah, sometime...nervous laughter that meant no way jose, let's just let this one die a quick death signal?
No, she didn't, because now there is a phone message on our machine asking me to call her back so we can arrange a play date. So far I've done the extremely mature thing and have not called her back yet (from last Thursday).
I know, I am a small, small woman. With passive-aggressive control issues.
See, I am absolutely A-OK with letting the little girl come over to our house to play. Playdates here are great. It's the next play date that will most likely involve allowing Annelise to ride home with and PLAY AT BASICALLY A STRANGER'S HOUSE that freaks me out.
Can you tell?
How do I play that scenario? Without offending the mom, of course.
Help. And I'm shamelessly begging.