It’s a typical afternoon, and my phone buzzes with an incoming call. The screen lights up, revealing my child’s school. A wave of dread washes over me; I know that when schools call during the day, it’s rarely good news. Teachers don’t reach out to share that your child is excelling; they call to inform you that another student has made your child’s lunch a little less appetizing or, worse, to report that your child is unwell. I brace myself and pick up the call.
“Everything’s okay,” my child’s teacher reassures me. “However, he’s complaining of a stomachache and says he needs to come home.”
I try to mask my frustration. I had planned to use this day for focused work, finally tackling that never-ending to-do list.
Sensing my disappointment, she adds, “I totally understand.”
I don’t want her to think I’m upset about my child feeling ill; it’s just that I know he’ll likely be back to his usual self in no time, bouncing around the house as if nothing ever happened. But there’s nothing we can do, so I respond, “No problem, I’ll be right there.”
“Take care,” she says.
“Goodbye,” I reply, and as I hang up, I blurt out, “Love you!”
Silence hangs in the air, and I start to panic. My mind races ahead to lunchtime, imagining the teacher sharing my blunder with colleagues, turning me into the punchline of their jokes. I envision my kid’s high school graduation, where I’ll still be remembered as the parent who accidentally declared love to a teacher.
I open my mouth to clarify, “I didn’t mean that! I was distracted,” but the words don’t come out.
This isn’t the first time I’ve inadvertently expressed my “love” to someone I barely know. Over my seven years as a parent, I’ve told four other parents at my child’s preschool that I loved them—one of them being a man.
There’s also the UPS delivery guy who probably believes I’m his biggest fan after I enthusiastically hugged him one day. That was particularly awkward since he doesn’t usually come to our neighborhood. It’s as if my affection for those close to me spills over onto unsuspecting strangers.
Then there’s the dry cleaner who once dropped off our clothes at my house. I mistakenly let an “I love you” slip out, and now I avoid him like the plague. I’ve even changed salons more than once to escape the embarrassment of facing the staff I unwittingly professed my feelings to.
Each time I find myself in these situations, I feel like a guilty criminal, as if nothing could be worse than burdening someone with my misplaced affection. The phrase “I love you” has never come easily to me. I’ve only expressed it to a select few in my life—my husband and children included. Before marrying my husband, I once told a boyfriend I loved him, and his response was a lackluster “Cool,” as he returned to staring at himself in the mirror. That experience led me to avoid love declarations for a long time; the rejection stung too much.
Then I met my husband, who returned my “I love you’s” without hesitation. It turns out I was just waiting for someone who would reciprocate. After a rocky start, expressing love has become something I excel at, a skill I never knew I possessed.
Despite feeling like a failure in many aspects of life, I’ve discovered that loving my family comes naturally. I can’t definitively say I’m a perfect mom or wife, but I love my family fiercely and remind them of it regularly. Sometimes, though, I forget who I’m addressing and accidentally tell a stranger I love them instead.
So, even though I might need to find a new hairstylist and the UPS man might request a different route, I’ll hold my head high. After all, being loved a little too much isn’t the worst thing in the world. Just ask my UPS guy!
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In summary, while expressing affection might lead to awkward moments, it’s a testament to the love we carry for those around us. Embrace it, and don’t be afraid to share your heart—just be mindful of who you’re talking to!
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