Confessions of an Introverted Momma

I sit on the cool grass and watch the other moms on the playground. I don’t know any of them; I’m new to this whole mommy gig. I listen to them laugh, swap stories about their little ones, catch up on one another’s lives as the late afternoon sun heads west across the sky. I walk by them and smile. I try to think of something to say to break the ice and, as I’m pondering, the other moms start packing up to leave. I tell myself I’ll do better next time.

I’m an introverted momma.

I exchange pleasantries every morning with the other daycare moms as we pass through carpeted halls and bend over toddler-sized furniture, our babies on our hips. Hi, how are you? How’s Little Guy today? I want to say more as we hang jackets and backpacks on tiny hooks. I want to say how adorable I think your kid is and how precious it is that he and my son are friends. I want to say that if our kids are such great friends, we probably would be too. Let’s do lunch. Let’s get the kids together some weekend. Instead I say, “Have a great day!” and let the rest linger in my heart.

I’m an introverted momma.

I’ve had an exhausting day at work. I pick my baby up from daycare, hoping I don’t have to talk much to anyone. I’m fried, I’m all peopled out, and all I really want to do is go sit in a corner somewhere and drool. I’ve got a lot on my mind that you couldn’t even begin to know, and I scowl as thoughts tumble through my head, distracting me from the reality of the world around me. We pass and I forget to say hello. Please don’t take it personally. 

I’m just an introverted momma.

I push my buggy across the concrete floor of aisle 11 at warp speed. The baby and I are both hungry and a little cranky, and I wouldn’t have stopped, but we’re out of milk and Lukas still takes a bottle at night. As I head toward Dairy, it happens: I see someone I know and I have a split second to decide if I will go over and say hello or if I will duck down aisle 12. Aisle 12 wins more than I would like to admit.

What can I say? I’m an introverted momma.

It’s Saturday night and I’ve been looking forward to lounging in my jammies and watching a movie all week. A group of friends are going out on the town, they want me to join them. I decline, they’re upset. I explain to them that downtime is just as important in my life as social time. I have to decompress, to be alone, to retreat inward for a while — that’s what energizes me. That’s what gives me the ability to go out in the world and be sociable and interact with others, that downtime gives me life. 

I’m an introverted momma.

I find myself in a group of moms, some of them I know, some I don’t. I feel comfortable and at ease for a change, and I take note of how good that feels. Everyone is chatting, lost in conversation. I notice a momma on the sidelines, shuffling her feet, looking down into her drink. I walk over and say hello, introduce myself, invite her to sit at my table. She’s new to this whole mommy gig.

She’s an introverted momma and so am I.  

Yes, we’re introverted mommas. But, more importantly, we’re human beings with hearts and souls and emotions, just like everyone else. We don’t need to be rushed, or bossed around, or taken care of by the extroverts of the world. We’re pretty awesome just as we are. 

Eventually, we get around to saying the things we need to say. We invite a potential mom friend out for coffee. We introduce ourselves to the ladies at the playground. We sometimes even say hello to folks at the grocery store and strike up conversations with strangers. If we’ve recharged our batteries adequately, there is no stopping us. 

We’re a pretty courageous bunch, us introverts. Mostly because every single thing scares us, so we’ve gotten comfortable with facing our fears. We’ve learned over time that love conquers fear, and we know that we can trust ourselves to do what needs to be done when it’s time to be courageous, especially when it comes to our children.

We build deep and lasting friendships with people over long periods of time. We open up to others gradually, like those achingly slow peonies that wait until late spring to show their brilliance. 

We may not be the life of the party in a group setting, and you won’t usually find us chatting up a crowd, but get us alone and we’ll talk your ear off. We slowly travel from person to person asking them questions about themselves, getting to know them one on one and for real. Small talk is usually not our forte. We prefer BIG talk. We want to discuss things that matter. We’ll often skip the witty banter for a good, honest heart-to-heart. And we listen to people, we notice how they’re feeling and what kind of mood they’re in. We like to make others feel understood, acknowledged and important.

We watch and we pay attention to the things around us. We feel things deeply, even though we may never say a word, because sometimes it just doesn’t even occur to us to talk about it. Some of us carry the weight of the world on our shoulders, but only those whom we’re closest to know the heaviness of our burdens.

Yes, we’re complicated and delicate and rare creatures that sometimes must be handled with care. And you may have to work for our affection. You may have to be patient while we find our way out of our shell. But we are definitely worth the effort. We’re fiercely loyal friends, empathetic listeners, thoughtful and observant ladies.

We are introverted mommas.