It seems I'm always the one building the walls

Last Sunday.
A lunch party, under the guise of a year-end party, was held at the nursery school my three-year-old son attends.
Many of the children attended the year-end party as well, and my son seemed to be having a great time running around with his classmates.
Then, just as the event was winding down, one of the parents from the senior class stood up and made an announcement.

"We're going to have an after-party at the nearby community center, so please come if you're free! Children are, of course, welcome too!"

Watching the families head home one after another while listening to the invitation, it seemed unlikely that many would attend the after-party.
I gathered that the after-party was a deep-dive banquet for the so-called "deep-level parents"—those who have been attending this nursery school for years and are on close terms with the teachers.

As a parent in my second year at the nursery, not a local, and not yet fully integrated into the community, I felt this wasn't a place for someone like me, the representative of "beginner parents."
The other parents in the same class whom I occasionally chat with, who are also beginners, clearly chose to head home.

However.
Somewhere in my heart, I was thinking, "I kind of want to go..."

Today, my husband is working, so I'm on solo parenting duty.
I'm struggling to figure out how to spend the time until evening.
Should I go to the usual, laid-back, and boring children's center?
If I go straight there now, I'd be spending an estimated three hours at the center.

Just imagining it feels pretty exhausting.
I'd definitely be unable to stop yawning and would probably end up falling asleep halfway through.

In that case.

Wouldn't it be more fun to let my son run wild with the other kids in the warm room of the community center while I enjoy the adult atmosphere of a banquet?
My daughter would surely be doted on by many adults as well.
And a banquet like this is also the best chance to get to know other parents.

On the other hand, my "beginner mentality" was quite hesitant about attending a banquet that seemed to be oozing with local vibes and an "insider" feel.

The people who attend these banquets are usually the same. The "usual crowd," as they say.
If I suddenly showed up, wouldn't I just be out of place, standing out, and creating an awkward atmosphere where people feel like they have to be polite to me?
Memories of the many times I've tried hard to attend such banquets, only to hold a self-reflection meeting afterward, came flooding back.

So, should I go to the children's center and spend a laid-back, boring time?
Or should I dive into the banquet, prepared for a self-reflection meeting later?

Unable to decide, I left the decision to my son, and he replied.

"I want to go to the community center. I want to see who's there."

My interest in the "deep-level" banquet slightly outweighed my hesitation.
No, my son gave me the push I needed.
...Alright, it's worth a try.
If it's really too uncomfortable, I can just leave early and head to the children's center afterward, right?

I took my son and daughter and visited the community center right near the nursery school for the first time.

The voices of children were already echoing outside the room.

"H-hello... excuse me, I'm just dropping in, is that okay...?"

As we peeked into the room timidly, several of the organizing parents invited us in with a "Come on in!"
I felt a little relieved by their bright voices and carefree smiles.
The atmosphere didn't freeze with a "Oh, someone unexpected came. What do we do?"
It seems the "deep-level" parents aren't necessarily harsh toward newcomers.

On the low tables lined up on the tatami mats, there were cans of alcoholic beverages, plastic bottles of juice, cheese-flavored snacks, nuts, and a large amount of snacks like potato chips scattered everywhere.

Yeah, this definitely wasn't a light banquet that a newcomer could just easily slip into.

Feeling a little excited and very nervous, I sat down.
My son and I both had apple juice in hand.
At 2:30 PM, the banquet began.

My son's eyes are sparkling at the colorful donuts and snacks he doesn't usually get to eat, and he's reaching for one after another.
Go ahead and enjoy this special treat, my son. We're even going to have dinner here tonight.

As for my daughter, she's lying beside my knees, babbling in baby talk all by herself. She seems to be in a good mood.

After a while, the children, having filled their bellies with sweets, began to run around and play.
My son, who isn't used to this kind of environment, was timid at first, saying, "Mommy, come with me..." but after a while, he joined the other running children and started tagging along after the older boys.

It doesn't look like he's going to say he prefers the children's center.
I felt relieved. I had a feeling this decision would turn out for the best.

As for me, although I was definitely feeling about ten centimeters off the ground, the kind parents were doing their best to include me.
They were probably just being considerate of me as I floated around looking out of place.

"Wait, you're from Osaka!? I can't believe you came to such a rural place!!"
"How old is your youngest? Six months? Aww, so cute! ❤️ So no alcohol for you yet, then. But please, help yourself to the food and drinks anyway!!"

The veteran parents were, by and large, open-minded.

"I'm on solo parenting duty today... and I just wanted to let the kids run wild..."
I timidly explained my reason for coming, trying not to let them realize how excited I was to see a box of Mister Donut D-Pops, something I hadn't seen in a long time.

"That's definitely the right call!! Moms need to let their guard down and enjoy themselves sometimes too!!"
The older mom next to me said this emphatically while popping an edamame bean into her mouth.

I listened to the topics they were discussing—things like their usual work, daycare, and things about this area that I didn't know—topics that these people probably always gather to talk about.
There were some topics I didn't understand as a beginner, but I don't think anyone thought anything of it.
When I asked, "Um, what does that mean...?" with some trepidation, they explained it to me quite naturally.
It seems the capacity of this gathering to embrace others was greater than I had imagined.

Fully indulging in their generosity, I ate and drank my fill, and before I knew it, the clock had passed six.
More than three hours had passed in the blink of an eye. Compared to the time spent at the children's center, it felt like only a fifth of the time.
I was nervous until the very end, and while I didn't quite lose that floating feeling, I was relieved that I had managed to spend the time there.
(In the first place, I'm not good at group drinking parties, and I've never not felt like I was floating. A certain amount of that floating feeling is within my acceptable range.)

Ah, I realized once again, as I have many times before, that I am always the one building the walls.
There was absolutely no one who found the presence of a newcomer bothersome or acted strangely awkward. (Come to think of it, people who think like that probably wouldn't host this kind of gathering.)

"There aren't many places to play in the winter, right? If you'd like, come over and play at our place sometime!"

These were the words of the older mom who had been keeping me company, even though I couldn't speak the local dialect.
Whether or not that actually happens is another story.
The fact that there is someone nearby who would say that to me is incredibly grateful.

I've always been annoyed with myself because I want people to pay attention to me, but I'm bad at opening up.
I always thought people would draw a line and think I was a weirdo. That they would laugh at me for being an outsider.
I had always thought that.
This time, too, they probably wondered, "Why did this parent come here?" but once I arrived, that was it; there was no one there building walls against newcomers or beginners.
It was a place where, if you wanted attention or needed help, you could just say so and someone would help you.

As for my son, after running around, he finally took off his sweatshirt and continued to run around the large Japanese-style room.
He played and scuffled with a girl from his class while wearing only his undershirt, enjoying the moment to the fullest.

"I don't want to go home yet!!"

I finally headed home while soothing my son, who had started crying when he said that.
It was a long day that felt like it was over in an instant.
That day, as I watched my son and daughter, who had fallen fast asleep as soon as they got into bed, I still felt a little lightheaded from having spent the day like that.

I think it's fine for us to grow up together as parent and child while being looked after by the people around us.
I was able to jump into the party for the pathetic reason that it was exhausting to look after a three-year-old and a zero-year-old who can't play together yet for a whole day.
Well, I suppose this is also a form of growth.

The next day.
When I dropped my son off at daycare, I ran into a few of the parents I had met at the party.

"Thank you for yesterday. Let's do it again sometime."

After exchanging those greetings like a proper adult, I felt like I had grown to like this daycare a little bit more.

The anthology ZINE "Happiness Found Through Writing," which I sold at the Tokyo Literature Flea Market in Osaka, can also be purchased from my online shop!

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I also enjoy hearing about someone's dreams or who they want to become.
A project that has only just begun.
I am running it on a very small scale and very irregularly.

Thank you for reading!