making friends at gymnastics

My girls started gymnastics back in September.  After years of begging, I finally gave in.  I wish I had given in when they first asked; they love it.

The girls are in the same level of class, but since they are in different age brackets, they are not in the same class.  This means instead of sitting on hard bleachers for one hour, my butt is blessed to sit for two.  It’s really fun.

Not long after we started going, my friend Emily encouraged me to make friends.  I’m not very good at that.  Not very good at that at all.

I have some friends.  I love them a lot.  I stick closely to those few friends and I’m happy with them.  Making friends requires putting my crazy out there and waiting to see if it’s accepted.  The friends I have now already know I’m nuts.  They’ve accepted this long ago and it’s one of the reasons I love them so.  You’d think as you get older that it’d be easier to make friends.  You’re supposed to be less self conscious.  This is not the case for me. The older I get the more neurotic I get.  I’ve developed more phobias and crazy in the last coupla years than in my entire span o’ life.

(anyone else get on an airplane, scan the passengers and decide which one you’d eat first should the plane go down? no?  just me then. excellent.)

Anyway.  Making friends.

Not my strong suit.

But I was encouraged to do so, so I’ve been trying for the last several weeks.  Even taking pictures with my new friends.

I’ve really put myself out there to get to know people.  I’m doing a really good job, and I’m quite proud of myself.  Below are the pictures of me with my new friends.


  

But as you can see, these people didn’t actually know we were friends. None of these people has ever said so much as a word to me.

It was time to step up my friend making game. It was time to enlist help. By way of Pedro. My Mexican head statue.

If you aren’t yet acquainted with Pedro, let me give a brief background. One day while visiting my SIL, we went to a vintage-y type store. I looked all around, loving so many things, but necessarily needing any of said things.

Until I saw this beautiful statue.

I quickly grabbed him off the shelf and pleaded with Josh to let me have him.

“Uh. No. That thing is awful. No.”

And then he got a phone call and was distracted and before he knew it, I’d made the $17 transaction and became the proud new owners of Pedro, the Mexican head statue.

Much to my husband’s chagrin, Pedro resides in my living room right next to my television. Where I can see him every day.

I love him.

And he loves gymnastics!

So we went. He sat in the seat next to me on the way and my oldest daughter says, “you know if Dad were here, Pedro couldn’t come along.”

Yes, twas why it was glorious Dad could not come that day.

Pedro was going to help me make friends!

Except he didn’t.

Instead when I brought him inside and sat him next to me on the bleachers, people stared.

But no one said hi.

Not one.

A couple of weeks later I was back to making friends on my own.

If it looks like I’ve been crying in this photo it is because I had been. I was reading a book titled My Gentle Barn. I hit a sad part and lost it. Bawled. Josh and Jaylee just stared at me.

“Mom, this is not going to get you any friends.”

I tried to pull myself together when I check Facebook and see that a dear friend of mine has announced she is expecting a baby.

More tears.

More stares.

No friends.

Their loss is all I gotta say. I’m a super good time (if you haven’t already surmised that).  We have class in three hours.  Pedro’s dusted off and ready.

Maybe today is the big day.

4 thoughts on “making friends at gymnastics

  1. Oh dear, I have tears from laughing so hard.
    I feel so bad for Pedro. You take him there and they ignore him.
    Maybe you should take one of the flamingos.
    Or, Pedro and a flamingo! Then maybe somebody will notice. Like YPD!

    Like

  2. I think they are really missing out by not talking to you. You don’t need to be friends with people who aren’t friendly, have a sense of humor and value other people. You have many friends already who fit that description and love you for who you are. If Pedro doesn’t make them smile, or at least curious, then hasta la vista to them ! (that’s spanish. for ” may the next taco you eat give you food poisoning”.

    Like

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