Cheaper than Therapy

A few months ago, David looked at our cell phone bill and asked (in a rather suspicious fashion) who I was calling 3-4 times a week at 8am and talking to for a half hour on my drive in to work. I admitted that my friend (I'll call her Judith rather than put her real name and associated admissions out in the street) and I used that time to chat, talk about how are lives are going complain or boast about our kids, jobs, politics, you name it. We cry, we laugh, we compare and contrast our childhoods and family dysfunctions. We admit things to each other that we probably don't admit to many other folks. It is our own personal rantfest. Another friend, who I'll call WH, and I have similar exchanges but not as often, mostly because she works from home and doesn't have the leisure (or burden) of a drive in rush hour traffic to let off steam. But oddly, our exchanges seem mostly to revolve around health and sex and relationships - probably because she teaches that to teens - but also because she's very frank in a way that other women tend not to be. She'll call and tell me about her health or ask me about something very personal in a way that is disarming and freeing, allowing you to open up in a way that you might not even feel comfortable doing with your own doctor without blushing. Some people have a gift, or a curse depending on how you look at it. I have other friends who are my food buddies or my home repair pals, women I can chat with about those subjects and bemoan the house fixing up that never gets completed or the challenges of finding gluten free pizza in the valley.

But the point is, we have these discussions, often, because they are not only enjoyable (and helpful) but because they make us happy. I knew this already from experience, but then was surprised and pleased to find an article in the New York Times called, “Why Sisterly chats Make People Happier,” and felt that what I had suspected all along had finally been validated. (http://www.nytimes.com/2010/10/26/health/26essay.html) And the great thing is, the sisters don’t have to be biological sisters, just women with whom you connect with on a certain topic or no particular topic at all – someone you just know you can chat with and even the most frivolous or benign conversation will bring you as much comfort as that call which helps you through a bad diagnosis or a marital crisis.

Now whenever David looks at the cell phone bill and sees Judith’s number showing up repeatedly, he knows better than to comment. He realizes my sisterly chats with my friends are vastly cheaper than therapy (and far more enjoyable).

And So It Begins...

My soon-to-be 10 year old daughter got a phone call from a boy last week. As I listened to the very thoughtful, obviously well rehearsed message he left her, it took a moment for it to register with me that he was calling her because he liked her. The call wasn't a homework help request or to check the due date of a class assignment. It was a call to chat, to see how she was doing and to arrange to "hang out" together at a school function. It was the start of what I (think, fear and yes, for her sake, even hope) will be years of messages from (to quote my best Blanche DuBois) "gentleman callers" which will be left at our house. Not to mention the hours of phone time or cell minutes that will be burned up as tweens and teens try to negotiate the ins and outs of adolescent body changes, hormonal flux, crushes and first (not to mention, second, third and fourth) true loves.

The following weekend, my daughter rendez-voused with caller boy at the park. As they strolled around (always within our view), Nicole, who is usually a frenetic bundle of energy who can barely keep from bursting out into dance moves or stop from talking long enough to let another human get a word in, walked calmly and quietly next to caller boy, listening intently to him talk, nodding when appropriate and laughing a cute little laugh which clearly she reserved for him because it was a far cry from the snorting that she does at the dinner table despite repeated demands for her to stop. Whenever she passed us, she'd give a small smile which screamed, "I'm so happy right now," but would continue walking with him, self possessed and demurely, in an almost (dare I say it) flirty way in the playground area. Calm, soft spoken...AND flirty? Whose child was that? Certainly not mine.

Aside from the fact that I need to sit down with her and have a chat about being yourself around boys or anyone else, I was struck by (and yes terrified by) how easily and early attraction starts - even before they understand what any of it really means. Later that day, another boy from school started talking with her and told her he wanted to be her boyfriend. As she told me this, I tried to keep my head from exploding and instead, calmly asked what she told him. She said, "That's very nice of you to say, but we should just be friends because I'm too young to have a boyfriend." I was so proud of her for saying that without my prompting and it made me hope that perhaps some of the things we've been trying to teach her were actually absorbed and have started to work in action. But then she told me what she added as he started to walk away, supposedly to keep from hurting his feelings. She said, "Maybe in the sixth grade," to which he replied, "What school will you be at?" My head hasn't explode yet, but listen closely for the boom.