It's Not You, It's Me

Home -> Columnists -> While Mom's @ Work

By Chag Holland

Read more: friends, playgroups, while moms at work

If you were asked to name the biggest problem facing today's parents, what would you say? Would you go with overcrowded classrooms, bullies, environmental concerns, sexual predators, or something along those lines? Not me.

While I believe these are all valid concerns, I feel the biggest issue that affects me as a parent is other parents who wish to befriend me based on the misconception that we have something in common due to the fact that like them, I successfully procreated.

Before you write me off as an insensitive, misanthropic jerk, please know that I am horribly shy. While I have no problem exchanging pleasantries in the school hallways, gossip about teachers and other parents at your kid's birthday party, and the occasional small talk about the weather, I am not looking for a friend. Between my family, current friendships, neighbors, the people inside my computer, and the voices in my head, my dance card's pretty full.

This is why I was never good at the whole playgroup thing. While I knew my kids loved and needed the social interaction with their peers, I would spend my time nursing my coffee and staring at the clock, counting down the minutes until I was a free man. I'm sure there are plenty of guys who would love to drink coffee and discuss the minutiae of everyday life with a roomful of pleasant and attractive women, but that just isn't my bag. Because I am unskilled in the fine art of conversation, I would often sit there silently, nodding my head every so often, laughing or gasping at the appropriate moments, waiting for the conversation to turn to a topic I knew something about, like sports or current events. But once I found my entrance into the conversation, I would often overcompensate for my earlier silence, monopolizing the conversation and blathering on and on while shouting "Shut up! You're rambling!" in my head.

As the kids became older and playgroups morphed into play dates where I could simply drop them off at the door, I thought my not-so-golden age of social ineptitude was behind me. Unfortunately, this was not the case. As preschool turned to elementary school, I found myself fielding calls from other parents inquiring about homework assignments or whether my daughter had seen a certain event transpire that day at school. While I have no problem duly answering their questions, when the person on the other end of the line starts chitchatting, I will invariably need to take a roast out of the oven, answer the door, help my daughter finish her homework, or rescue a baby from a burning building -- anything to get me off the phone.

As I am one of the few stay-at-home dads at my children's schools, I tend to stick out like a sore thumb. I am quite visible on the campuses of both schools and am often asked to volunteer my time and services. I have no problem helping out at their schools. In the past, I have participated in book fairs and Halloween festivals at my daughter's elementary school. I have done my part at my son's school during its fundraisers. Hell, I have even done some light maintenance work at his school. While I have trouble lending an ear, I have no problem with lending a helping hand.

But I also have trouble lending a guiding hand. Occasionally, I am asked to spearhead certain clubs or events. Quite frankly, I would rather take a spear to the head than be a leader of a group due to my fear of public speaking. Recently, one of the higher-ups in the PTA at my daughter's school asked me if I would be interested in creating a monthly organization for fathers. She told me there had been a successful Moms' Club at the school for years, but no such outlet for dads. Several dads had expressed interest in such a group where they could get together, compare notes, and talk about paternal issues, feelings, and the like over coffee, pool, or something equally manly. While I didn't run out of the room screaming, I shot her down before she could finish her pitch.

I have no desire to hang out with a group of people I don't know, especially those that want to talk about their feelings and crap like that. I have enough trouble talking to people about insignificant stuff, let alone my feelings. Just ask my ex-psychiatrist how well that went back in the nineties.

So in closing, if you see walking down the hall, a simple nod or "Hello" will do. I'll probably flash an awkward smile, but know I mean well. And if you try to engage me in conversation, be forewarned that I'll probably be late for an appointment or some other lame excuse. Just remember: it's not you, it's me.

A former rock star, programmer, fashion model, thespian, ballroom dance instructor, and master of hyperbole, Chag Holland is now married to a former Sports Illustrated swimsuit model and is a stay-at-home dad to the two most beautiful children in the world. He'd show you pictures but he thinks you're all psychopathic stalkers. Chag can also be found at Cynical Dad.

More Columnists:

The Parental is Political
The Historic Inauguration of Barack Obama
By Julie Marsh

Mominatrix
The Mominatrix heads to a NYC sex party.
By Kristen Chase

Mominatrix
Kickin' It Old School.
By Kristen Chase

Home/Office
A Stigmatism
By Dana Tuszke

Rugrat Reprieve
Spring is in Their Hair: The Joys of Making Them Play Outside
By Rachael Brownell

While Mom's @ Work
It's A Wonder I Made It Out Of Middle School Alive
By Chag Holland

While Mom's @ Work
The Napkin of Shame
By Chag Holland

Mominatrix
Can men and women be 'just friends'?
By Kristen Chase

While Mom's @ Work
Too Fast, Too Soon
By Chag Holland

While Mom's @ Work
When Duty Calls
By Chag Holland