There I was, Sunday afternoon, with a decision to make.
Eat with friends? or eat by ourselves?
Sounds simple, but for me it’s not.
The afternoon before I had texted my friend E to see if she had plans for after church. Her text back was not what I was looking for: D is actually off work tomorrow and we’re eating with N and K since we haven’t seen them since before Thanksgiving, but you’re welcome to come!
Not a fan of being the third wheel. Especially when said third wheel is a mom with four kids eating with two other couples and only one of them have a (singular) sweet little baby.
All right, being honest here; I had agonized about it all Saturday afternoon and Sunday morning. I didn’t want to go; but, I did. They were my friends. Not just my acquaintances, my friends. But without Paul, I’m all kinds of shy. The excuses my mind came up with were numerous: they could go somewhere more fun or closer to where they live if we didn’t go, maybe the girls would be misbehaved or I’d spend the whole time taking them to the bathroom and leaving the others at the table, and on and on.
It really was ridiculous.
But now I was walking down the nursery hallway from picking up the girls and they were all waiting for me. How could such a small, simple decision make an adult woman want to melt into the ground?
I went with them.
And I was super glad I did.
The girls were so good; and it felt so good to just be the person that needed some encouragement and support and to be okay with that.
Goodbye ever-lurking independence. Goodbye odious voice of insecurity. Goodbye you nasty monster pride. All of you, I will see again; but for today you were defeated.
Hello to the other side of friendship. Hello to being okay with the fact that you have four kids and your life doesn’t quite look like everyone else’s. Hello to letting others be there for you.
Thanks for reading my first series: Taking care of four little girls alone (while my husband is on an amazing study trip to Israel). Here are links to the other related posts.
It’s official: the Israel trip is on
Day 1: to turn out that last light
Day 3: Is something wrong with me?
Day 4: Sometimes you just need…
Day 6: The problem with “me” time