When we moved to this neighborhood about a year ago, I prayed for good friends and neighbors. I hoped my children would find good friends that would last them a lifetime. Until recently, I was so disappointed.
We live in one of those neighborhoods that has a reputation for being filled with children, like in a you-can't-throw-a-rock-and-not-hit-one kind of ways. Like, if I didn't have children I would shudder to think about living here. We live a hop, skip and a jump from an elementary school, so close that I'm embarassed to drive there - it takes about the same amount of time to drive as it does to walk there. It's close. I was shocked to find that the number of elementary age children, not including my own, who's houses we could see, could be counted on two fingers. There are lots of babies and kids younger than elementary age, and heaps of houses full of people with no children. Not what I had hoped for, at all.
However, I've persevered - gotten involved, spent time outside with my kids, riding bikes, which tends to draw other people outside. We've gone to birthday parties, field trips, school functions, and PTA meetings, all in the hopes of meeting friends for all of us. And, so we have.
We've had three playdates this week, two of which included all of us. Like, real, honest-to-goodness let the kids play upstairs/outside while the moms chat about mom stuff. And I loved it. And the oldest went to a friend's house one afternoon and hung out there for several hours. And we're all going to a birthday party tonight, again with the kids playing and moms talking thing.
So, my prayers really have been answered. But here's the problem. I'm tired. I want to be in my house for an afternoon with just me and my kids. Clean laundry is nearly unheard of (Thank goodness the weather has been such that pants AND shorts have been options this week, otherwise there would have been underwear-clad children at school, and we wouldn't have to worry about having friends anymore). Honestly, it's been crazy around here with all the friends and playing and mom-talking. And then the next problem is that it makes me feel really guilty that I'm acting all ungrateful for our newfound fun and friends.
But the plan is, for Saturday, while Dad's at work, to not leave the house, to get up late, to wear pajamas into the afternoon. I'm sure that the children that I remember as perfect angels will be back to arguing with each other, and I'll be wishing for another knock at the door.