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November 7, 2006 Frances's First Friends
As I write this, it is Hallowe'en, and I have just returned to the office from Frances's daycare costume parade. I arrived to see my wee girl crumpled on the floor from heat; her costume is a thick, outdoor-appropriate fleece lion ensemble, and too much for inside. When I picked her up (she didn't even see me) and put her on my lap, she piteously asked, "Can you take it off, Mummy?" "Not yet," I said. "But I'll undo it so you can cool off; and when the parade is over, I will take it off and bring it home with me." I sang a few Hallowe'en songs with the kids and tickled Frances's back, on her request, and it aired her out so it was a good idea regardless. Then it was time to go. A slim, tall ballerina with a neat brown bun approached us; "Can little Frances be my partner?" she asked. "I think so," I said. "What's your name?" "S." "S! Frances has told me so much about you. Yes, I think that would be fine." S grabbed her hand and they stood in line together. "Can I hold you, Mummy?" asked Frances. I leaned down and gave her a hug and promised that when the parade was over, we would take off the costume and have a good snuggle before I went back to work. Meanwhile, S was busy fending off other claimants to be little Frances's parade partner, namely the protector I've mentioned in previous posts. S, incidentally, is a girl Frances talks a lot about at home, normally with the "my best friend" or "my special friend" prefix. "My best friend S" takes Frances on bike rides around the playground, and "my special friend S" plays with her, and the protector is "my other best friend" who "picks me up." Literally. S did a great job of being Frances's partner; they held hands while parading around the building, while the building's employees stood on the side of the hallway and grinned. Mini moments I don't want to lose: #1: "Frances, are you a lion?" I asked. "Yeah." "What do lions say?" The entire senior class roared in unison. "Oh my!" I said. "How frightening!" #2: After the parade ended, all the children got a small treat for their efforts. Frances accepted her small red package with wide-eyed wonder. "Mummy, look what I got!" She held it out for my inspection. "Wow, did you get a candy?" I said. "So did I!" The entire senior class brandished their red plastic packages. "I see!" I said. ~~~~~ "Look at the little lion!" I heard many of the on-lookers say. "She's so cute. Is she yours? Oh, how adorable." Afterwards, I took off her costume and packed it away, gave her a hug and told her I would be back in a few hours, and we would go trick-or-treating. A slightly teary Frances walkedoff hand-in-hand with her special friend S. Now I am in my office, looking at the dozen photos I took of them together. Frances and her first girlfriend, gripping each other's hands, smiling at the camera. (And you know that's going in the scrapbook.) ~~~~~ The social occasions surrounding the Motherlode talk were at least as much fun and as stimulating as the panel. At the Mother-Talk Lite over dinner on Friday, the conversation turned to the Mean Girls phenomenon. I said very little, because I normally say very little; but also because I've never understood the Mean Girls thing. In Negotiating with the Dead, Margaret Atwood discusses her upbringing briefly, where she spent most of her earliest years in the bush with her parents while they studied bugs. It wasn't a particularly girly sort of thing to do, and as a result, she writes, she didn't understand the culture of girls when they returned to city living and she started school. I didn't spend the first several years of my life in seclusion from girl society, but I empathize. I don't know how girls work. I never have. I take people at face value; if they say something nice, I'll believe they mean well. The mechanics of female conversations when the participants don't like each other make my head ache. When so-and-so said such-and-such, did she mean such-and-such, or did she mean such-and-so; and if she meant such-and-so, why didn't she just say so? I can't figure it out; I can't keep up. This has two downsides: 1. I am transparent. Anyone can see right through me. If I don't like you, you'll know. If I seem to like you, then I do. (And oh gods, how much it irritates me when people try to 'interpret' me, as if I didn't say exactly what I mean. When I say you don't need to buy me a present, I mean you don't need to buy me a damned present. If I ask for feedback and constructive criticism, that means you can tell me you didn't like something, and I won't dissolve in tears and conclude that you hate me; on the other hand, if you tell me you like something when you don't, that will piss me off. It means if you ask me for constructive criticism, I will indeed provide you with constructive criticism, and I will assume you can handle it. The question, "What did you really mean, Andrea?" will never do anything but provoke me; and when girlfriends ask me "So-and-so said x, but did she mean y, or maybe z? What do you think? How should I find out?" my answer is nearly always a polite variant of "just ask her, for crying out loud," which is apparently the wrong thing to say.) 2. Other women are, sometimes, utterly opaque to me. I have been blindsided more than once when someone who seemed to like me, because they smiled and said friendly things, turned out to despise me. I can never see it coming. I remember one person in highschool who was always telling me (helpfully) about what Other People were saying about me. What was written in which bathrooms; who said I didn't wear underwear to school; who else was saying I stuffed my bra, and so on. I dealt with this by writing a letter about it and letting it get passed around--"Leave me alone" was the essence of the missive. I don't think it worked; but the point is, I preferred to deal with such things head-on. It wasn't until my senior year, when I found out what she'd written about me in someone else's yearbook, that things started to fall into place. Until that moment I thought of her as a friend. She smiled at me, so she liked me, right? Ever since, whenever I've run into her, I have been unable to treat her pleasantly. She smiles at me still, but I can't ever trust her again. I noticed some of these dynamics at the actual conference; after the talks were over, rather than heave myself into the lion(ness)'s den I kept back and busied myself in tidying up and speaking only to small groups of people who I know I like and who I know like me. If I saw someone I even just wasn't sure of, I avoided them; the alternative would have been conflict, because I just can't master it. I can't smile at someone I dislike, and I can't stand anyone who could smile at me if they didn't like me. If I dislike you and, as a result, have said anything negative about you in your absence, then I will say it in your presence too (this has gotten me into trouble more than once). And I would have, which would have ruined the evening for everyone else. I am watching Frances embark on the first of her female friendships with no small measure of trepidation. I'm so happy she has these friends. Right now they bring her nothing but joy. Every day I hear about the kind things they do for her, and how much she likes them. But it won't stay that way, because it can't. And gods help me, I can't do anything for her. I don't understand girl culture. I don't know what to do or say the first time a girl breaks her heart. I don't know how it works, I can't translate for her. It is a substantial weakness for the mother of a daughter. But she's already learned and demonstrated more about making friendships than I've managed to master in thirty-one years, so maybe this will come to her too, without any help from me. (Having written this I'm afraid of it being misinterpreted to mean that I don't like girls or women. That is not true. I just don't understand the typical patterns of social interaction.) Posted by Andrea at November 7, 2006 6:48 AM under Female Trouble EMAIL this entry (comments fields are below this section) Comments What a nice piece of yourself. I wonder how does that translate into blogging. Are there people who leave comments and you don't like them? (I know you "like" me, or you wouldn't leave comments on my blog if you didn't. Right?) Posted by: LauraJ at November 7, 2006 9:15 AM
Trust me, I am not any better at this online than I am in real life. If I don't like you, you'll know. Unfortunately I don't have the time to visit everyone who visits here and leave a comment every day, but everyone who's ever commented here and who I don't feel friendly towards unambiguously knows it. I'm not subtle. That's part of the problem. Posted by: Andrea at November 7, 2006 9:40 AM
I totally appreciate your to-the-the-point approach! Just say it like it is! But sometimes I beat myself up b/c my face shows absolutely everything. Does it have to give everything away? Must my facial expression proclaim ALL to everyone? This can be quite a pain in the butt! Posted by: Chrissie in Belgium at November 7, 2006 10:40 AM
Nice piece. You know, one of my biggest fears is that my daughter will turn out to be one of those mean girls. Which is funny. I never worry if my son will turn out to be a bully. By the way, on IE 6 on XP your font is really really tiny. Posted by: Jennifer at November 7, 2006 12:53 PM
I know, I was messing around w/ the stylesheet to fix some accessibility issues, and for a while all hte font sizes changed. It should be back to normal now. If it's not, let me know. Posted by: Andrea at November 7, 2006 1:06 PM
This resonated with me, without a doubt. I was always the tomboying little girl and famously told my Mom at a young age, "Mom, I don't like girls. You can't trust them." - for all of the reasons you described above. Thankfully, since then I've met other like-minded women who have been the greatest friends because they just tell it straight. I think it's refreshing. But I can relate to you when you say it sometimes gets you into trouble. Posted by: Stacey at November 7, 2006 1:07 PM
I've been thinking about this topic lately too, becuase I had that weird experience where I felt snubbed by the Moms at the preschool where LittleBoy goes. I think I do get the normal patterns of interaction, but have been pretty insulated from them because my two or three closest female friends have been my friends since I was six, twelve, and fourteen, respectively. On the other hand, I certainly have had a friend or two that suddenly changed her mind about liking me, and it did hurt. I tend to avoid women who talk often about not trusting or liking other women, because I can tell that they are going to carry that attitude into our friendship, and it makes me nervous. Posted by: Abbey at November 7, 2006 1:33 PM
This whole topic makes me so nervous--and for just why you said, Abbey. Because it's not that I distrust women. There is just that weird cultural vibe of "I have to pretend to like you even though I despise you and am fantasizing about sticking pins in your eyes because otherwise I will not be Nice, and I don't want people to think I'm a bitch." And it's not so much about trusting women (though there are individual women I don't trust) as suddenly feeling as if the conversation has switched into Dutch, and I don't know what anyone is saying anymore. Posted by: Andrea at November 7, 2006 2:04 PM
I often have to be nice to people I can't stand (the step-monster, for one) and I don't really like it, but I do it because it would cause more hassle than I really want to deal with otherwise. I find people in general to be pretty disappointing. Most of them don't keep their word, many of them will stab you in the back just as soon as look at you and they quite frequently don't take anyone else into consideration. It's frustrating and sad and makes me wonder why I even bother making an effort with anyone some days. But I do. I'm trying to raise my kids to think of other people in addition to (not instead of) themselves when they make decisions. It's what I do and I'm hoping it will rub off. I wish I could be more like you, but I'm a bit of a wimp and don't think I could be that forthright. Posted by: julia at November 7, 2006 2:52 PM
Nothing pithy or insightful to add about the "girl dynamic." However, had to comment on your comment "I was messing around w/ the stylesheet to fix some accessibility issues." Wahoo!!! I'm not the only wing-nut out here!! Posted by: Miche at November 7, 2006 3:12 PM
I wish more people were as direct and honest as you are Andrea. The world would be a much less complicated place. I struggle with the girl group dynamics also. I have always found myself on the fringes of women's groups and I am not entirely sure why. Sometimes I wonder if it has to do with my own "what you see is what you get" approach to relationships. The result is that my closest female friends are people much like myself, who expect honesty and candor in all of their relationships. I find it is really great to have at least one friend who will say to you "Ok. That outfit is hideous." :) Posted by: Sue at November 7, 2006 3:19 PM
Sue, I'm not sure of that. It would probably be equally complicated, but in different ways. Miche, wait until Thursday. :) Julia, I hear you. Posted by: Andrea at November 7, 2006 3:33 PM
Nothing caused me more anxiety when the kids were little than the possibility of them being targets for mean girls. It happened rarely, and they were able to brush it off, but I tell you it made the mama lion in me awaken. Posted by: yankee,transferred at November 7, 2006 4:27 PM
Yes Andrea, I guess it would still be complicated, wouldn't it? I think I just find game-playing too tiring. In my work, I'm immersed in a culture of terminal "niceness" that has become so entrenched in all that we do, it doesn't mean anything anymore. I've got nothing against being nice, except when it becomes theatre, and I've seen enough of that in the political circles of my job to last a life time. So that's where I was coming from, and that is why I value people who can be "real" about where they stand and who they are. Posted by: Sue at November 7, 2006 5:44 PM
I tend to be a pretty open book, but I've had "friends" like those two-faced people you describe. People who tell you on thing to your face, and then are talking trash about you behind your back. I had a "friend" in high school who *I* thought was my best friend. Turned out that she was calling me "Hog" behind my back to everyone who would listen. I still see her occasionally, and it really chaps my ass to be polite to her. I appreciate your forthrightness. I wish more people did what they said they would, and meant what they said. All that deception is so soul-crushing. Blech. Posted by: KLee at November 7, 2006 6:19 PM
The "typical patterns of social interaction" are bullshit. I think I saw myself in each bit of point #1. My mom was no-nonsense, didn't lie, wasn't funny, and didn't talk about people behind their backs. She didn't like for us to whisper. I usually had one best friend (in middle school, I had two), and none or a few other friends or acquaintances. In sixth grade, I had a group, but otherwise, it's mostly one-on-one. Except now, when I have no friends. I have never been sure how anyone felt about me. I would have been sure about my last friend, but I haven't heard from her in 3+ years. I think I've been trying to have the right kind of friendships with the wrong people. If the alternative is to learn to be phony, I'd rather be alone. Posted by: ~Macarena~ at November 7, 2006 6:58 PM
I so totally hear you about not understanding the "typical patterns". I hate backstabbers and will have nothing to do with them. You have something to say to me? Say it to my face! Posted by: liz at November 7, 2006 7:31 PM
Andrea, it sure is a sensitive topic. Just to clarify - I'm not saying that I read your post as meaning that YOU don't trust women as a whole. I know that you are too smart and analytical to lump any huge category of people together like that and write them off. I think it's hard because it's as if we are expected to either love all women and expect a universal sisterhood or hate all women and assume they are catty and backstabbing, when in reality it really depends on each individual and what they are like. But the unwritten social rules around competition and friendships between women definitely make it harder to be direct and honest without offending anyone, which I think is really unfortunate. It seems like you have to build trust before being able to honestly communicate, when logically, it should be the other way around: building trust by communicating directly in the first place. Posted by: Abbey at November 8, 2006 1:10 AM
I just wanted to say that I loved this post. Every word of it. Posted by: Jane Dark at November 8, 2006 3:16 PM
Hmm, this is interesting to read, because I never really encountered all of this until I moved to Spain, (actually, once when I was living in Costa Rica, too) so I tend to interpret it as a culture-specific phenomenon. I still think the whole dynamic of friendship is very different here from what I knew in the States, but obviously there too it can be bad. I think I am unusual because my reference for women's friendships has been the friendships my mother developed with a few other women (starting in the CR, sisterhood seventies), which have never been anything but totally supportive, authentic, etc. I always assumed that I too would eventually find my posse, but so far it hasn't worked out like that. Not that I've had really negative experiences, but it just seems harder to connect these days. Anyway, from what I've seen of you through this blog, I would say that if the time ever comes that Frances has Mean Girls issues to deal with, I'm sure that you will handle it beautifully. And I think your up-frontness is a good quality in a role model for young women. Rock on! Posted by: kate at November 9, 2006 3:59 AM
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