Last week, I took my kids to Cheekwood to see the Human Landscape exhibit. It was a beautiful day, and we took our time strolling through the gardens and winding our way down to the trains. We even took a nature walk down a path I never knew existed where we saw deer frolicking in the woods on either side of us. After Cheekwood, we went to The Food Company for lunch and ate outside on their lovely patio before heading home. It was a perfect day. So why did I feel so lonely?
The truth is, I’ve been feeling a little lonely ever since the summer ended. The summer felt effortless—the long, lazy days passing with coffee dates and pool meetups. As homeschoolers, my kids’ two-day-a-week supplemental programs didn’t start until September, but most of my friends’ kids started school a month or more ago. Several of my friends either went back to work or are using that time to catch up on the bazillion things they didn’t get done all summer. My kids have been feeling the loss of school starting as well. Many times they’ve asked if they can see someone, and I’ve had to tell them no—because that friend is in school.
I know what you’re thinking—that I chose to homeschool, and that’s just what comes with the territory. I’ve thought the same thing myself, but I never intended our homeschool days to be lonely days of sitting down at the kitchen table with workbooks. Like Amanda mentioned in her recent post, I like to be out and about with my kids. Staying inside and listening to them bounce off the walls makes me go bananas. To me, homeschooling means days at Cheekwood, the Zoo, the Frist, our fantastic public library, and the Children’s Theater. I want them to explore the entire world, learn foreign languages, visit other parts of the planet, and study other cultures. If anything, homeschooling—to me—is about broadening their horizons, expanding their focus, and not closing ourselves off from the world.
Besides, there’s a wonderful homeschool community here in Nashville. However, since we just started Kindergarten, I haven’t really broken into it quite yet. I have acquaintances but few friends. And in this modern age of playdates, my kids suffer too when their mother doesn’t have phone numbers and friends ready to hang out throughout the week.
I’m in a challenging place right now. Making new friends with new people seems a daunting task. There are all the little pieces of data you have to get through before you can really get to know someone. I wish I could skip all of that. I’d like to walk up to someone new, not ask her how old her kids are or where they go to school or how long she’s lived in Nashville, and just right away ask her what her favorite book was this year. Or if she’s spent any time in Europe. Or what she likes to eat for dinner. But that would just net me a reputation as the crazy mom on the playground, so I have to take a deep breath and plunge into the world of new mom friends one small talk conversation at a time. I know it would be this way whether I was homeschooling, starting a new job, or just joining the PTO and taking my kids to soccer practice after school.
It’s a process, as relationships always are. For now, I’m learning to embrace a new kind of relationship—the one I build when I curl up on the couch and read books with my kids, chase my son around the playground, or pretend to have tea with my daughter (and her five baby dolls). That day at Cheekwood was so idyllic, and I paused as often as I could to capture my children’s essence and their sense of wonder. These days sometimes feel so long, and I always find myself rushing from one thing to the next—seeking other adults who can commiserate with me over coffee while our kids disappear to entertain themselves, but the years truly have been so short. In the transition between old friends and new, I realize I have these two constant companions. They’re raw and vulnerable. They’re brutally honest. They’re full of curiosity. They show me the world through fresh eyes, and I’m learning—slowly, with difficulty and a lot of doubt—how to enjoy their company when it’s just the three of us.
