I have to admit I’m pretty awful at remembering names. The older I get the harder I try and the more I repeat them over and over in my head. Sometimes it works, to the delight of Jill at my local supermarket, Visuka at the post office and Jack the car park attendant.
Other times, like at school pick-up, it fails dismally.
Kids have such a delightful way of bypassing the whole terrible memory dance. In her very first week of school, Talia made two new friends. But as only a five year old can get away with, she had no idea of their names. She knew one was in the yellow class and the other in the blue class, and she had obviously spent a few lunch times in their company and chatted happily, but when I asked her their names she said ‘I don’t know!’ as though their names were irrelevant. They had decided they were friends and, at that point in time, that was sufficient.
Still to this day, I’m in a similar situation, but I don’t think I can get away with it with such ease. All the mums mingle outside the classroom waiting for our cherubs to burst out when the bell goes. We all smile and most afternoons make idle chatter such as ‘Isn’t it hot!’ and ‘What a nice teacher we have!’
But unlike the kids, we don’t wear nametags. If you are not careful, the time to ask someone’s name quickly passes. Before you know it, too many afternoon conversations have been had to admit you have no idea who you are talking to. Or if you are like me and introduced yourself on day one but have completely forgotten a name by day three, how long can you bluff for?
We all usually know the kids before the parents, so you can easily step in and say, ‘How is Ella enjoying school?’ You have established you know who they are mum to, without revealing you have no idea who they are. Then hope you can find that class list at home and put names to faces!
The kids have been a wonderful way for John and me to make new friends. With similar interests, lifestyles and timetables, you find yourself spending a lot of time with the parents of your children’s friends and team mates. Your lives are oddly parallel, and, mostly, if you like the kid you’ll like their mum and dad.
In fact, the vast majority of the friends we see most regularly have come into our lives via our children. Through years of sport, learning and shared experiences we’ve formed some close and what will be lifelong friendships.
The soccer dads regularly hold what they call ‘strategy meetings’ at the pub and the mums can extend a quick afternoon school pick-up into a lovely long catch-up in the playground.
Given they usually live locally, you can stop by for a cup of tea and a whinge about the teachers, you can take turns doing the Saturday morning soccer run, and often find someone equally bored to talk to during those long, long hours of summer cricket.
And if you’re lucky you’ll find a special one or two who transcend your kids’ friendship . . . almost a kindred spirit in the daily perils of parenting, someone who understands exactly what you’re going through because she’s going through it herself.
And if you’re extra lucky, she’ll be much better at remembering names and might prove rather handy at school pick-up time.