On Saturday at the Randall Museum I ran into a friend who went to the same college and business school; now we are in the same book group. Another book clubber had told her about this blog, and she said I was a good writer. I swear it, she actually said the word "good." Out loud. And it made me feel, well, good...
As a stay at home Mom, I rarely hear the word "good" directed at me. Nobody has ever - nor are they likely to - said I'm a good Mom. And certainly I don't hear that I'm doing a terrific job with managing the kids' schedules. With grocery shopping. No one ever says, hey - you're a hell of a carpooler.
My friend Lisa said my haircut looked good. (Although she has a mission as my personal confidence booster - she always tells me I look good, so I don't really believe her.) And recently my husband asked me if my jeans were new -- he thought they looked good on me. They are actually two years old. It may be that he only takes a good look at me every couple of years, but at least he was nice when he did.
But it is not the same as hearing that something that you actually did was good.
So I felt good. And I was still feeling the good glow when we got home from the Randall Museum and found our letter from SF Unified telling us that once again we didn't get one of our kindergarten choices. And then I felt really bad.
We have a good school lined up, so we will be okay. But I do feel badly that the kindergarten Gods have continually said no, no, no, no to us. That they can't just once let us be the ones that make the choice.
So I had a good cry. And even Lisa couldn't have said I looked good.
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