NanoWrimo day 2
I am not good at parties
Unlike my daughter who loves parties, my daughter who wants to be the life of the party. I am not good at knowing what to say or when to say it. What things are ok to ask and what things should be left unsaid. I am not good at moving my body into an inviting conversational posture. Or plastering my face with a pleasant and welcoming look. I was cursed with resting bitch face, like my mother and her mother before her, and all my tías.
My daughter lives for parties, she normal hates the din of a crowd, but parties are a magical safe zone for her. For me parties are like scuba diving, except the boat left me underwater and I only have 50% left in my air tank. People are nice and they smile and extend courtesies with what I think is sincerity. It’s not them, it’s literally me. Parties are like being back at the eighth grade dance in your school’s crappy gym and no one asks you to slow dance so you wait on the wall with a drink in your hand hoping your solitude goes unnoticed.
I am good at reading the spines of all the books on the shelves and wondering what made those books special enough to earn a spot there. I am good at noticing dvd collections and discovering a bit more about the hosts by their choices of movies or tv shows. If there is a pet in the house I am good at making friends with them. I am good at quietly talking to my spouse as if we are the only ones in the room.
I am good at cozy get togethers with two or three and sometimes as many as six people. I am good at belly laughs over shared stories. I am good at finding solidarity by discussing life’s trials and tribulations. I am good at forcing myself to go to parties because my daughter loves them.
I have this kid who craves social stimulation. Her brain lights up in all the right places when there are other kids to play with, games to be invented, songs to be sung, and cake to be cut. I have this kid who is constantly pushing me out of my comfort zone, forcing me to try new things and grow as a person.
I am not good at parties, but I like to be invited to them. Funny thing is, the less you go to the parties the less you get invited to them. I like the idea that someone likes me enough to want me around their party, but I don’t like it enough to actually want to put pants on and leave my house.
I am not good at parties, but if my daughter wants to go I will try to be there. Hovering silently making sure my kid is having a good time while also trying to give her enough space to grow as a social human. Awkwardly lurking in the corner reading your books and wondering where your cat is hiding.
I am not good at parties but please don’t stop inviting me. I like knowing that I could go if I wanted to.