Johnny and Susie
Every young child eventually finds their Johnny or Susie.
Johnny and Susie are my generic names for the kids that become your young son's or daughter's best friend. Once introduced, they will spend every waking moment attached at the hip, playing, laughing, and enjoying the carefree days of youth. It happens quickly, seemingly out of nowhere. As these young bonds strengthened, the looming thought for my wife and me was always, "I hope the parents are cool. Please tell me Johnny's Dad is a college football fan. My wife crosses her fingers that Susie's Mom is a country music junkie. We both hope they enjoy an occasional glass of pinot or a cocktail.
The names may be Jackie and Mitchell or Lilly and Cameron. The names don't matter, but the early friendships your kids make will shape the next two decades of your life. It's undeniable that roughly 77.3% of our close adult friends
came due to who our kids hung out with in their formative years. And for us, that was long ago in a faraway galaxy. We are now empty nesters in our mid-fifties. Our ankle biters are now adults. Our son just graduated college, and our daughter is a college senior on her final lap. The inner circle was built almost entirely by the time the kids were eight and ten. Your kids may not be five or seven, but their current friendships could dictate your future. How crazy is that? It's a blind arrangement, and a parent has zero control. But what do you have to lose? Seriously, where else will you find time to meet fellow grown-ups when you are running a full-blown, three-ring circus every day.
Our kids started making friends at Montessori school. They were roughly four and six. One of the first events I remember was an after-school family potluck on a sunny fall day. It was well past four in the afternoon, so I brought an ice-cold Fosters oil can with me. My wife smirked slightly with the eye roll that said, "You're bringing a beer to a five-year-old school picnic?" Sure, I replied. And like any new gathering, it was awkward at first. We smiled and made the requisite pleasantries but primarily worried about whom we would place our blankets beside. Before long, we gathered with our kids next to their new buddies Mitchell and Jackie and their parents. Greta and her folks were nearby, too. I quickly saw that Greta's Dad also had a cold beer, so there was promise in this new setting! We spent the next few hours chatting and getting to know each other, and the rest is history. Seventeen years later, three family friendships endure, born directly from our Montessori connections. The dads are getting beers next week!
Over the years, our children matured and attended different schools than their favorite peeps. Their friendships unfolded and changed in unexpected ways. Some relationships grew stronger while others withered away through time and circumstance. Meanwhile, new connections blossomed and provided the kids new friends but, more importantly, new relationships for Mom and Dad. Evolving friendships between youngsters can be difficult and traumatizing for various reasons. Unfortunately, these transitions are possibly even more traumatizing for the parents. There are several ways old bonds die and new ones are born. The stakes are enormous, and the outcomes differ big time.
The worst-case scenario is kids drifting apart from their pals when you adore their parents. It seems subtle initially, and then it's there in plain sight. All of a sudden, Johnny or Susie aren't the go-to friends. Something has changed. The after-school hoops game in the driveway has disappeared. Hanging out at the park has stopped. The spontaneous, quick-to-arrange family barbecues no longer occur. The parent's double-date night with a shared babysitter vanishes in a second. The Memorial Day road trip to Vashon has a new guest list because Karina and Susie don't hang out anymore. The kids' relationships ebb and flow like any other, but watching young kids grow apart is sad. Mom and Dad can still enjoy the adult friendship, but it does suck. Suddenly, you are arranging separate sitters and making plans that don't include dependents. It feels like you are cheating on your kids. But damn, it was the dependents that brought us together in the first place.
Another much happier situation occurs when the kids grow apart from besties whose parents you dread hanging with. It happens. Sometimes, you just don't connect with the other parents. Whether they don't drink beer at after-school events or are otherwise not exciting or engaging, it's tough to slog through another boring get-together because the kids enjoy each other. When our monkeys stopped hanging with Cindy and Bobby, we no longer had to stomach Mike and Carol, who were bumps on a log. It was a happy day, for sure. Who knows, maybe Mike and Carol were dancing in the streets as well, having ditched our sorry asses.
Things were mostly set by the time our minors were thirteen and fifteen. They enjoyed diverse companions, some from the "early" days and others from middle school. We thrived with a core parent group that shared similar interests, and they all adored their kids similarly to the Friels.
High school arrived. It was their fourth and final assimilation into a new place of learning. The high school friendships definitely took longer to find and nurture. We endured weeks and months of stress and angst, hoping and waiting for new friendships to emerge. I still have vivid memories of these days. It was our first taste of raw parental fear. My stomach was in knots for long stretches. Physical and emotional discomfort were constant companions. My wife and I felt helpless. What's wrong? Why is it taking so long this time? Was this the right school? Our clear and present fear was, "Will our kids be accepted into the new social hierarchy, whatever that may look like?
And then I heard my sister's wise voice. It remains the most sage parenting advice ever.
"Little kids, little problems, big kids, big problems."
That is an elementary truth. And my sister's wisdom isn't even really advice, just a warning shot. Buckle up!
Over time, and more quickly than I recall, new bonds were forged, and our kids began to flourish again. Sports and extra-curricular activities helped spur these budding friendships. And then it happened before our eyes. The kids were gaining confidence, maturing, and, most importantly, pushing their boundaries. They each forged a unique path in what can be a horrifying freshman year of high school. Henry and Ella, among others, became the new anchors. The remaining high school journey wasn't always easy or smooth, but they survived and thrived.
They were now officially ready for the big show. Time for college. The best times of their lives awaited when the lifelong friends appeared out of thin air. Johnny or Susie may somehow defy the odds and become a lifelong friend, but it's unlikely. From my life experience, I rarely cross paths with the friends I knew before college. That's just the way it works.
I have always wondered where couples with no children go to meet other adults? Is it the local pub or co-worker barbecues? Maybe it's at church or the local gym, perhaps the library. I really have no idea. And does anybody actually go to the library anymore? That concept has jumped the shark with this Internet thing still holding strong.