Monday, September 19, 2011

Week Forty One. One day at a time.

There was something I anticipated about my stepdaughter entering a new real school (besides having the kids out of the house for a while every day; what I wasn't considering: Early rising, cranky children etc.).
I was anticipating the socializing. Honestly, I was.
There is still only a very limited number of people in this country that I want to meet regularly (which is mostly my own fault but more on that later) so the thought of meeting new people through children had quite the appeal for me.

Which is funny because I am rather awkward when it comes to socializing. I can do it, if I have to but I rather won't and what I hate the most: When I am the only one who is a) different or b) the only who doesn't know anybody yet. So imagine me in the schoolyard: The foreigner with a new kid in class (besides one other kid all children in my stepdaughters class have gone to Kindergarten together. Everybody knows everybody! Except me).

I know that spending play dates with her classmates is an important thing for my stepdaughter as my husband and I don't have any friends with kids in her age (or not that I know of any) and it's important to make her want to go to school which is something she does but not with very much enthusiasm.

When I take her to school and watch until she goes into class (there is line up! An anthem singing! This is so far from where I am from) with the other mothers I feel a weird connection with her as she stands in line very observing but also very silent taking it all in and watching the other girls tell stories. I am similar in a way standing around all these other mothers chatting away at 8 in the morning while I observe and wonder if I a) could and b) want to fit into their lives and topics (I am not sure).
My stepdaughter goes to a yuppie school have I mentioned that?
Their mothers scare me.
Not because they drive bigger cars (the car park looks like a luxury car dealer ship!) or are even richer than the average citizen of the West Amman bubble. They scare me because I am different perhaps.
I don't know how much we can have possibly in common.
They choose not to work because their lives are comfortable as is. (Most of them.)
Their needs are materialistic.
Maybe I am underestimating them.
Maybe I am drawing a worse picture than it really is.
And maybe they are as shallow as I have seen and heard.

We have our first play date with the other new kid in class next Monday. Let's see how that goes.

{Forty one down, eleven more to go.}

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