Not My Usual Tuesday

So, last night, after all the Halloweenie activities, after I'd removed my itchy banshee wig, after the candy bowl was placed out of The Dog's reach, we sit down to a late dinner. I mention that I'm not going to my volunteer gig this week. Both The Spouse and The Child react with a shocked "why?"

Here's the why: the big mailing I was going to be doing isn't ready yet because it's an invitation to a fundraiser that Maria is doing with some other senator and the two of them haven't quite worked out the details. (Dang it, what's that other woman's name? It's on the tip of my tongue...it'll come to me...oh, whatever, she's the senator from New York. Anyway...) The only other volunteer project is a phone bank and I don't do that phone bank thing. This elicited another shocked "why" from The Child. I told her that calling total strangers makes me nervous.

Actually, calling total strangers makes me want to boot. Last year I (reluctantly) did some get-out-the-vote calling for the Kerry campaign and almost had a stroke. Mind you, I was calling little old ladies, party faithful, who said things to me like, "Of course I'm voting for him, dearie, and you young people just keep up the good work" and it still made me hyperventilate.

I'm not a shrinking violet but I am shy, even though no one ever believes it. I am pretty good at developing relationships after first contact but there is a little toll that has to be paid every time I enter a new situation. This is why I could never be a politician or a salesperson.

For example, senior year of high school I was on the year book staff. We each had to sell a minimum number of ads as part of our grade. I didn't do it until I was threatened with a D. (As I was going to major in English I thought a D in Yearbook might look particularly unseemly on my transcript). I sold two bloody ads at $25/each...one to my dad's church and one to the bank that gave me my student loan. And it was torture. Contrast this with The Child, who will set up a stand and sell whatever she can think of at the drop of a hat. A child who actually gets mad at me for not doing the candy sale at school because nothing gives her more pleasure than going door-to-door hawking goods. Not that there's anything wrong with her boldness or her salesmanship. I'm just saying she didn't get it from me.

Here's another story about how shy I am. When The Child was younger she went to dance school. The first year she did it with her friend Julia, which meant I had a friend to hang out with while the kids danced. Then Julia moved away. Now I was on my own, which meant that beyond an occasional polite 'hi' or 'bye', I would sit by myself reading or writing while the other mothers talked. Sometimes I'd pretend to be super interested in the notices on the bulletin board advertising studio space and used toe shoes. The other mothers talked. They appeared to have all these pre-existing bonds of neighborhood, pre-schools and mutual friends. The Child didn't go to pre-school, we didn't live in Mt. Baker or Leschi and so I sat quietly. I didn't interject myself into their conversations. I didn't engage any of them even when there was opportunity. I kept shyly to myself. Which was fine because it wasn't like I was a lonely kid on the playground. I had friends, for crying out loud. It was one hour a week out of my life.

But what's ironic is that two of those women have since become friends. Not, mind you, because I did anything. They enrolled their kids at St. T's when we were there. One of them, Julie, reached out to me and I ended up acquiring a whole new group to hang with because of it. And since Julie is part of the reason I'm writing again and the whole reason why we have a schnoodle, I'm pretty grateful that she's not as shy as I am.

Talk about digressing. What I really wanted to mention was that, having learned I had a "free day", if you will, The Spouse suggested that I take the day for myself, which I thought was just brilliantly sensitive of him. Here's the thing. I am pretty good at taking care of myself and don't typically feel guilty for doing something just for me. But it is still really sweet that The Spouse recognizes that I am pretty busy most of the time and acknowledges my need for down time. So big fat snaps to him. I think I'll begin with another cup of coffee.