Meeting mom friends isn’t always easy. Are we really supposed to like each other and bond because we both procreated around the same time? That’s just weird.
But we all need mom friends because non-mom friends find us annoying. And I really can’t be bothered with non-mom friend complaints of “how busy” they are and how they have been “working so hard” and are “really tired” without rolling my eyes and mumbling something like, “Oh, I know it is so hard to have to go to the gym and meet friends for drinks after work.” And “It must have been so hard spending the weekend up at your ski condo with your friends and lots of booze. Poor, poor thing.”
Wow, do I always sounds this bitter and sarcastic? Maybe that’s a clue to my current situation.
So, yes, we moms need to stick together and we need girl friends to hold onto some sort of sanity and a glimpse of our pre-kid selves. But am I the only one that finds it hard to bond with other moms?
There was a neighbor in Baltimore who had one of those scrapbooking roller cases and went out with her friends to scrapbook every other Friday night for her GNO (Girls’ Night Out; I love acronyms). So nice for her! You’d have to threaten me with the pinking shears to get me to do that. I have a scrapbook that I started for my first born. It was really fun for about 72 minutes. One day he will get to relish the 2.5 pages I made for him.
That neighbor and I tried to hang out together. We lived across the street from each other and we were both home with kids. We soon found ourselves smiling and waving from the other side of the street. And that was it.
Then I met Debbie (hi, Debbie!) and she renewed my faith in friendships and moms and finding that one person you connect with and with whom you want to spend the rest of your days–and the long hours between afternoon nap time and dinner time.
We lived a block away from each other and met at a pre-school co-op. Our connection was instant. Debbie saved my sanity those two years I stayed home with F. Our kids became like brothers as we constantly made plans for outings and play dates together, calling each other by 7:30 AM to plot out how we’d survive the day. We were both home with boy toddlers and we were both pregnant. She didn’t pretend life was all shiny, happy Kodak moments. We didn’t have to be that perfect Mom. We could just be. And I am grateful that I had a friend like that during those lonely, confusing and difficult years.
Fast forward a bit and I have moved away and gone back to work full-time. And had a third son. And I’m still looking for my new Debbie. It really is a little bit like dating–these play dates and family barbecues: Making sure the kids and husbands click. Hoping the conversation will flow easily. Praying my joke goes over well. Fingers crossed that there won’t be a religious or political viewpoint that derails the whole fragile thing.
We exchange emails and numbers and then…The Wait–hoping they like me enough to meet again.
When I got married, had kids and settled down into life on a tree-lined street with T-ball, pre-school and PTO meetings, I thought the dating portion of my life was over. I had no idea I’d have to do it all again.
And this time–with women.
