The Unwelcome Hug: A Lesson in Setting Boundaries

Dealing with unwanted advances from a school mom’s husband

I made a huge mistake.

I didn’t do it on purpose.

Honestly, I just did it for my daughters.

I don’t feel bad about my mistake; it’s made for a great story to tell.

However, it was a mistake nonetheless.

My mistake was joining the school parents’ committee.

The PTA.

I don’t know what I was thinking?!

I am the worst possible candidate to be a member of any parent committee, let alone the committee that makes decisions about school events.

I’ve always said I don’t plan the party; I attend the party. (usually late!)

My two daughters had started at a new school, the same school, in first and second grade

The school itself and the class sizes were small. The girls were in what they call a composite class, where two grades are taught in the same classroom due to the small number of students.

My daughters hated every minute of the chronic togetherness this forced upon them!

Another pair of sisters in their class were the same age as mine.

Each sister became friends and paired off with the other sister in their age group.

My youngest daughter became particularly close with the youngest of the sisters.

At six years old, they wanted to do everything together: have weekend play dates, join the same after-school activities, and always sit together in every class.

These sisters were considered a pretty ‘important’ family at the school

Their grandmother was the school principal, and their mother was the head of the PTA.

The mother (called “Red”) approached me after the morning school dump and run.

I thought she was racing after me to discuss a potential playdate for that weekend, but instead, she jumped mouth-first into a sales pitch that insisted I just had to join the PTA.

I gave her every excuse for why I couldn’t commit to such an esteemed position.

“I’ve never been one to volunteer at school; I wouldn’t know what I’d be doing.”

Her response was, “I’ll teach you.”

“I don’t like organising activities.”

She replied, “Of course you do! You always have people at your house, and they always have a good time!”

Red was not hearing me.

“I’m just very busy with other commitments right now," I told her firmly.

Done.

I had laid down the law.

There is no arguing with me now.

I was about to say goodbye and walk away when she hit me with a statement that was as heavy as the guilt she intended to place upon me:

“You couldn’t be too busy to support your daughters at their new school? Do it for them; think how proud they would be of their mama.”

Red got me.

No witty comeback. No excuses.

I was now a member of the PTA.

The first PTA meeting I attended was the following week.

It was held in the school cafeteria, where another mom with whom I had become friends was the owner and caterer.

When I arrived, I was happy to see a familiar face sitting at the table. She even brought a bottle of wine and filled a glass for me!

This would be alright!

I was introduced to the other PTA members who were in attendance.

There was "O," my caterer friend’s husband; a few older ladies had been PTA members since the school opened in 1836 and were never planning to move on from the job; there was “B”, the male head of the group and responsible for the budgets and money stuff; and there was Red’s Husband (whom we shall refer to as ‘Mr. Over-friendly’).

I do not recall what was discussed at this meeting, and I didn’t care either. The only thing I recall is Mr. Over-Friendly staring at me, laughing at every joke I made and agreeing with everything I said.

I figured he was just a nice guy.

Our daughters had arranged a playdate for that weekend.

The doorbell rang, and Mr. Over-Friendly was there to drop his kid off.

I always find it awkward when a playdate is arranged for my kids. The parent stands at the doorway, unsure whether to wait to be invited in or assume it’s acceptable to bolt back to the car and enjoy a few hours without one child at home.

When the doorbell rang, I felt pressure to return inside and finish what I was doing because I didn't want the responsibility of having to amuse said parent with small talk.

Mr. Over-Friendly felt comfortable. In fact, he strolled into my kitchen and sat down on the island bench.

He made himself at home. In my home.

My husband wasn’t home then, and I didn’t feel uncomfortable, but this situation was strange.

He started asking me questions about the usual crap that parents of similar-aged kids ask, which I answered until I said, “Okay, it’s been great to chat, but I have to jump on a Zoom call in a few minutes, and I can’t be late! Come back around 5 p.m. to get your daughter.”

He looked disappointed.

“A Zoom call on a Saturday? That’s rough. I thought we could open a bottle and have a drink while the girls play.”

Mr. Over-Friendly was as persistent as his wife.

“Not this time, anyway. I’ll see you back here at 5 p.m. You can meet my husband and chat with him,” I said as I walked to the front door to usher him out.

He took his time walking the twenty metres to exit my home, and when he got to the doorway, he threw his arms around me and hugged me!

It wasn’t sexual; it was more of a “we are now friends, friends who hug” kind of embrace.

I thought this was the weirdest thing I’d ever experienced on a playdate.

I’m not a hugger at the best times, and I didn’t think our few minutes of small talk had rendered us best buds!

I walked back inside, closed the front door, and was a little knocked for six.

When 5 p.m. came and Mr. Over-Friendly arrived to pick up his daughter, I ensured I was upstairs and had my husband deal with him.

By Monday morning, when it was time to drop the girls off at school, I had decided to forget about this odd situation.

I thought to myself that he was just an overly friendly person.

No need to overthink these things.

Walking back to my car at the school gates, I stopped to check a message on my phone that had come through.

Suddenly, I felt two huge arms around my waist and was enveloped in a hug from behind!

“How’s my favourite PTA member?” He said as he hugged me tighter.

WTF????!!!!

Who does this?!

Get off me!

I was too shocked to say these things, but I was fuming and grossly uncomfortable in my head.

I pretended I had an incoming call, pulled away, and said, “I’ll see you later”, as I power-walked to the car.

“O”, one of the other men from the PTA, saw this whole exchange of affection and proclaimed, “Someone has an admirer…”

I can’t begin to describe the level of discomfort I was feeling.

I needed to learn how to manage this.

I certainly was not doing anything to invite this attention, and I undoubtedly wasn’t enjoying it.

How would I stop this behaviour before it became the norm for him always to hug me when he saw me?

I decided the next time, I would step away.

I would tell him, “I’m not a hugger; you need to stop that”.

The opportunity presented itself a few mornings later.

Once again, at school drop-off, he saw me. He bundled up to me, almost running, grabbed me and forced me into a hug.

Mr Over-Friendly wasn’t the only person who saw me at that moment.

His wife, Red, happened to be walking out from the school office and was looking to discuss something with me when she saw her husband forcibly embracing me.

Storming up, she sneered at her husband under her breath, “What are you f@#$%g doing? Walk with me NOW”!

I was so grateful she had witnessed his flirting. However, I didn’t want to cause marital conflict, so I raced out of there with as much grace as someone who may be causing a divorce can.

I didn’t see Mr. Over-Friendly at school drop-off for a few days.

I wasn’t sure if Red had him locked up in solitary confinement or if this was just a case of embarrassment preventing him from dropping his kids at school, but I did see her.

And she was not friendly.

She went out of her way to show me I was not someone she wanted anything to do with.

Red, somehow, blamed me for her husband’s inability to keep his paws to himself.

I was confused but delighted that I didn’t have to deal with this.

This frosting that Red intended to show me wouldn't impact me.

My only concern was dropping off and picking up my daughters from school; playground politics were not my concern.

Some time passed, during which I convinced my daughters’ to walk into and out of the school gates without me having to step in.

It had been a while since I had seen Red or Mr. Over-Friendly, which suited me.

When I did see him, he would pretend not to notice me. He would try to look busy by pulling out his phone, or he would switch walking directions and act as though he had left something behind somewhere else.

Red also kept her distance.

I was grateful that this situation never reached a point where I had to have an uncomfortable confrontation.

What I regretted was that my daughter’s friendship with their daughter was now precarious.

The invitations to set up play dates completely stopped. The emails for PTA meetings also seemed to need to be remembered and sent to me.

Whatever the fallout was in Red and Mr. Over-Friendly’s home, it became clear that my daughter and I were persona non grata.

I explained to my heartbroken daughter that friendships change and that this was an opportunity to connect with some other kids.

By the end of the year, a lot had changed.

My daughter made other friends, and I became part of a group of mothers who were fun and inclusive and loved hanging out after school, enjoying cheese boards, and drinking champagne while our kids played.

As for the PTA, I was kicked off.

The reason why had nothing to do with Red or Mr. Over-Friendly.

I made another mistake—a mistake I didn’t make on purpose. I don’t feel bad about it; after all, it’s left me with another great story to tell……. in another article!

This article was written in response to a writing prompt by Chelsea Marie.

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