If You Build It, They Might Not Come
On putting yourself out there.
My anti-parenting advice parenting-advice column is still kicking over at Romper! This week, I wrote about our new cat, kids doing chores, and whether pets are worth it.
Given my early cat trauma, I have often cited some combination of landlord restrictions and vague allergies whenever my kids brought up pets. But when we moved out of our two-bedroom apartment into a larger house last fall, I began to run out of excuses. I also began to wonder if I was missing out on something. We had been a little family, not stable by any means but at least consistent, for years now. Couldn’t we stand growing a bit? Around Christmas, I indulged myself in looking at the available cats at the local animal shelter. I imagined something simpler than my kids but more rewarding than my Peloton. In January, we brought home a 6-month-old tuxedo cat we named Midnight. (Sorry, shelter volunteers, but “Jerry” is not a cat name.) I am almost embarrassed to tell you how much I love this cat.
Check it out, and let me know if you have questions for a future column!
Last Friday, I hosted a Crafternoon. It’s a portmanteau I can’t resist, less obnoxious than “cockapoo” but even more delightful than “chipwich.” I am not in any way shape or form, craftsy. Yes, I sometimes have crafts-related ideas, like sanding and repainting a bathroom dresser or sewing a bathrobe. But these, like many of the many, many ideas I have almost every few seconds, were doomed from the start. I may do some research, I may take a class. But I aint makin shit. And if I do make shit, it aint pretty.
If I’m being honest, I HATE making art. I love art! I love artists! My friend Jen at
is an absolute master of helping people feel comfortable making art, and even with her, I resist! To sit, pay attention to detail, tune out other distractions, care about making something nice, these are not my strengths. I will walk around and befriend every single person at your party. I will think of a hundred possible names for your new car. Watercolor? Please kill me.So why would this person, who by now you understand doesn’t really like crafts, and is also mildly neurotic and annoying, invite two-dozen women over to her house to paint and glue and bead (it’s a verb I promise).
Because she (I will switch to first person now) likes PEOPLE. And people? They like an activity!
The only thing I dislike more than painstakingly sketching a vase of flowers, though, is rejection. Friday morning, as I sliced up my double chocolate banana bread (I said I wasn’t craftsy, I didn’t say I wasn’t a badass baking homemaker bitch who slays banana bread), I paused in horror to reflect on the distinct possibility that quite possibly, no one was coming.
My first guest was 15 minutes late. “Are you expecting anyone else???” she asked, as she took off her shoes and set down the chips and salsa she’d grabbed at the bodega I DONT KNOW, OKAY????!!! I THOUGHT PEOPLE LIKED ME BUT THEY MAY, IN FACT, NOT, I responded in my head. Then another friend came, with a legit amazing bath rug she’d been weaving out of old table cloths and eggs from her Bantam chickens. Another brought her knitting! Oh, what knitting! Her lines were straight! Her shapes were recognizable! Maybe I wasn’t making art, but I sure was appreciating it. Another friend came with, bless her heart, nail stickers. “I hope it’s okay that this is my art.” she told us. More than okay, friend. She asked me for a brief tutorial, which I was happy to provide (the hardest part of nail stickers is the getting the edges right — you want to cut, fold over, and then file in small, brisk strokes in one direction at a time). We all marveled at her smooth-edged blue nail, which, from where I was standing, looked a whole lot like art.
We sat around my table, with the leaf in for length, and chatted and art-ed (I did the former, not the latter), for hours. I was proud of how I’d laid it out, though I did not clean up much (I choose to think of our clutter as a much-needed PSA for other parents). As people peeled off to pick up kids from school or run errands, the rest of us lingered. I made them coffee, and tea in a real fucking pot, and even though no one touched the banana bread, my heart was full.
I don’t know if my Crafternoon counted as a “success” or not. It it was a test of my popularity, perhaps that would be a no. After all, the vast majority of friends never responded, sent their regrets, or flaked (flaking is cool no judgement). If no one had followed my chips and salsa friend, would it have been okay? I think, yes, we would have made it that way.
The next day, we held an impromptu stoop coffee — something we did once in January (a lovely example of a regular one can be found here). We gave neighbors like 36 hours notice (I put it on our block’s email chain, on the neighborhood Facebook group, and on our local parenting WhatsApp) that we’d be making coffee drinks and serving coffee cake on our stoop 930-11 on Saturday. My son has many strengths, but the greatest may be that he knows his way around a Nespresso and a milk foamer. He gets overwhelmed in big social settings, but he likes to be of use, and so he sets up in the kitchen and takes orders from the top of the stairs.
I made Trader Joe’s coffee cake and brought my little desk down from the closet to the sidewalk. At 9:05 my son asked, “Is anyone coming???” “Maybe not,” I told him, trying to hide my discomfort at the thought, “but we’ll still stop people and see if they want cake!” But people did come. Neighbors we say hi to daily while they walk their dogs, ones we hadn’t met yet. A couple with a baby coming any minute who told me they’re really into the “philosophy” of parenting (pretty much the coolest thing any new person can say to me). A few toddlers who we invited upstairs to pet the cat. A bunch of dads I’d never seen before, and a son who shot some hoops with mine.
By 11:30 (there was a bit of an afterparty, nbd), I was exhausted and beaming. But the only thing to do was toss some mugs in the dishwasher.
What’s the metric for opening yourself up for community and having it be worthwhile? I suppose, only that connection occurs. I am still deeply afraid that everyone secretly hates me, and every time I invite people to the movies and get crickets or lead a workshop and have to move everyone up to the front rows at the beginning so it isn’t embarrassing, I cringe. But it’s worth it, ever time. For one person, one interaction, and for all the times you embarrass yourself and it means something to someone else.
Nothing is perfect. Not a gathering, or a coffee cake (mine was left in too long while I exercised and got quite dry), or an origami-heart thing, or a lesson in altruism. After the stoop coffee, my son and I snuggled on the couch. “You know, you made a lot of people happy with your coffees today, I hope you’re proud,” I told him. “Yes,” he replied, “And can I have ten dollars?” I dug up some cash and handed it over.
Also, this:
I am saving the final episode of Dying for Sex until I can’t take it anymore (is this viewer edging?). I loved it so so much. It was moving and hilarious and original and made me think about sex and life in ways I never have. My husband and I had beautiful conversations after each episode. Free sex therapy! Michelle Williams and Jenny Slate and at their absolute best, and the supporting actors are tremendous (I thought a lot about the actor Rob Delaney, who plays a love interest on the show, and his own experience with the death of his child from cancer, which he wrote about quite effectively in his memoir A Heart That Works).
Have you watched it?? How’s your sex life going?
I feel this way about publishing on substack! What if you write it and no one reads it? A good reminder that putting yourself out there can be a worthy end in and of itself. Thanks :)
I LOVE this so much. I promise I'm coming to the next crafternoon if I'm in town. And it's good for me to be reminded that someone as popular and dynamic as you has social insecurity. What? You are the most likable! But seriously, I think we forget when we're the one being invited, how much people can be impacted by whether we show up or what we communicate about not showing up. Good reminder for all of us to hold each other with care and grace.