It was just another ordinary day when my phone rang, displaying the name of my daughter’s school on the caller ID. A heavy sigh escaped me as I anticipated the dreaded news that would disrupt my day. Schools don’t typically call during the day with positive updates; instead, they usually bring bad tidings, like a food-related mishap or, worst of all, that my daughter is unwell and needs to be picked up. I took a deep breath and answered.
“Everything is alright,” her teacher reassured me, “but she’s been complaining about a stomachache for a while and says she needs to come home.”
I tried to suppress my frustration. I had planned on a productive day, uninterrupted by parental duties. Sensing my disappointment, the teacher added, “I completely understand.”
I didn’t want her to think I was upset over my child’s discomfort; it was just that I knew if she was feeling ill now, she’d probably be back to her energetic self in no time. However, there was nothing we could do about it, so I simply replied, “That’s fine. I’ll come and get her.”
“Goodbye,” she said.
“Goodbye,” I echoed. Then, as I ended the call, I unintentionally blurted out, “Love you.”
The line fell silent. My heart raced, and I could already envision the laughter I would face at the teacher’s lunch table later. I imagined my daughter’s high school graduation, where I would still be remembered as the parent who awkwardly declared love to a teacher.
I opened my mouth to clarify, “I didn’t mean that. I was distracted,” but the words didn’t come out.
This wasn’t the first time I had unwittingly expressed affection for someone I didn’t truly love. Over the years, I’ve told four different parents at my daughter’s preschool that I loved them, one of whom was a man.
There’s a delivery driver who now thinks I’m infatuated with him after one overly enthusiastic hug when he dropped off a package. That was particularly awkward since we weren’t even in his usual delivery area. Then there was the time I accidentally declared my love to a dry cleaner who sometimes brings our clothes back home. I’ve even switched hair salons to avoid facing the stylist to whom I mistakenly proclaimed my affection.
Every time it happens, I feel like a guilty criminal, as if declaring love to someone unexpected is the worst sin imaginable.
The phrase “I love you” has always been challenging for me. I’ve whispered it to only a select few – my husband and children being the main recipients. Before marrying, I told only one boyfriend I loved him, and his indifferent response of “Cool” was enough to convince me that love was something to be cautious about.
However, my relationship with my husband changed that. He eagerly reciprocated my affections, filling a void I didn’t know existed. Now, despite my history of accidental declarations, I find joy in openly loving my family. It’s one of the few things I excel at, even if it sometimes leads to embarrassing moments with strangers.
So, yes, even after having to navigate the aftermath of my awkward encounters, I’ll continue to embrace my affectionate nature. You can do worse than being someone who loves too much, just ask my delivery driver.
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In summary, my experiences with accidental declarations of love highlight the joy and awkwardness of parenthood, reminding us that expressing affection is a beautiful, albeit sometimes clumsy, part of life.