Category: Friendships

It’s hard for me to pinpoint the exact moment when I felt like a mom, since I can no longer recall the time when I wasn’t one. Even before those two little pink lines confirmed that everything just changed, I thought about my children constantly–what kind of mom would I be to them, what would they look like, would I stay home or keep working, what kind of people did I dream of them becoming…

Before my children existed they were real to me, so there were no huge cognitive shifts, blind leaps, or convincing required. Since becoming a mother, my life’s been filled with gradual changes, little shifts in thinking, minor adjustments here and there, but I can’t think of a singular, monumental “this is the moment” in becoming a mother. I’ve wanted this for so long that it just seems… Right.

While motherhood may have been a natural progression for me, it seemed to be more of an abrupt jolt for everyone else in my life. With far fewer martinis being spilled on dance floors as I started spending my nights in, certain friends stopped calling or cut me out all together. People who I thought would be in my life forever stopped being as interested in me once I became pregnant, and I suppose, I in them. On the other hand, I’ve seen strong alliances built around the shared experience of  picky eaters, tantrums, sleep deprivation, and Gymboree classes.

I once asked a friend, the father of a then preschool-aged girl, what was the biggest surprise about parenthood to him.

“The constant buzzing in your head,” he said. “No matter where you are or what you are doing, in part of your brain there will always be running ‘Where’s my kid? Where’s my kid? Where’s my kid? Is she okay? Is she hungry? Is she safe? Where’s my kid? Where’s my kid? Where’s my kid?’”

I laughed at the time,  but a year later, as I cradled my newborn son,  I understood for myself that the buzzing is real and it truly never stops. From that moment on, my life was not my own. Whatever I’m doing, whatever I’m thinking, and every choice I make revolves around my children.

I can’t even tell you what used to fill that space in my brain. Advanced math? A foreign language? Remembering… stuff?

Every once in a while, I’ll see glimmers of my former self. There have been girls’ weekends away or a day spent shopping on my own. Every once in awhile, I’ll join a friend for a night of clubbing, which incidentally has always feel ridiculous. On one such occasion, I offered to be the designated driver so my friend could fully celebrate her birthday. (How very “mumsy” of me. I know!)

As we made our way to the club with me behind the wheel, the single girls in the back kept yelling, “Can’t you drive any FASTER? Ugh, you’re such a MOM.”

“Why, Yes. Yes, I am,” I told them and kept the car a reasonable speed to make sure I stayed that way.

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It’s still “All About the Bump” Month! Eight bloggers and I have teamed up to spend a whole month talking about moms and babies- sharing stories, tips, and the wonderful products that have helped us through those wonderful (albeit hazy) first few months.

Read the other Bump Bloggers stories about when they first felt like a mom and be sure to enter our fantastic Bump Basket giveaway worth over $1,000. With nine bloggers each having a basket to giveaway, it’s like nine times as many chances to win.

Cassie Boorn put out the request and Jessica Gottlieb, Maggie, and Sarah responded. Turns out I had a few things to say to 20-something me, too.

After all, now that I’ve been 29-for-the-second-time for all of FIVE days, I feel as if I now have the proper authority to lecture younger me. So here goes:

Hey Doll,

You’re gorgeous. I know that’s hard for you to believe since you’re not used to hearing it, but occasionally people will tell you that. You owe it to yourself to believe them.

That boy you’re with on your 20th birthday. He’s a great guy, but he’s not the one. Stop trying so hard to make it “work”. Just enjoy it. You’re having fun and that’s all it’s needs to be.

Then, when it’s over. Let it be over. Toss that Dashboard Confessional CD and  go out with that waiter/trust-fund baby… or that co-worker… or that history professor (not yours, of course. The one you meet after you graduate. He is cute, no?) But not the pilot. He’s married.

When the time is right, you’ll find the love of your life. Actually he’ll find you, so relax.

The two of you will make gorgeous children and they will be just as you feared. Smart like him and relentless like you. You will want to sell them to gypsies were they not also kind and generous like him and thoughtful and witty like you.

Don’t worry so much about disappointing your parents.  You already have and that’s okay. You weren’t meant to be a doctor and you didn’t fall in love with one. Just accept it and they will too. It’s YOUR life. Go live it.

Let the fact that your favorite thing about your major is writing the thesis (and that you seriously offered to write your roommate’s thesis, too) be a clue that your passion just may be writing. So, pursue that career in advertising. You’re going to love it and will be good at it too, but be fearless and  follow your passion as well. Write… and start that blog! Not later. Now.

And while we’re on the topic, be honest with yourself and don’t be afraid to look stupid. You ARE stupid, but you’re here to learn. Pay attention. Ask questions. Laugh at your mistakes.

You don’t need the bigger house. In fact, you’ve been happiest in the smaller house and sharing the one car. You also like spending your days at home with your kids. So when your friends brag about the stuff they bought and the thing they just renovated, go ahead and feel smug in knowing something that they don’t

You hate beer and like scotch and pinotage. So put down that Miller Lite. You’re getting no joy from it and it’s making me gag to watch you try to drink it.

Get plenty of sleep. Your biggest faux pas will be directly related to being tired. Also, you’re setting a bad example to your future children, who will follow in your night owl tendencies. This will not bode well for you.

And Lord Almighty, do NOT let your mom convince you to include the line “Formal Attire Requested” on your wedding invitations. It will seem like no big deal at the time, just a tiny concession in the battle known as “planning your monster wedding”.

That line with cause more grief and vexation then you can ever imagine. It will only confuse and upset your in-laws and their friends, and lead to the complete unraveling of your father’s entire side of the family.

Your dear cousin, Patricia, will tell you it’s not your fault. All of that bitterness, resentment, jealousy, and anger was there all along, but, secretly, you will know it is your fault. None if it would have ever happened if you just had left your mom at home the day you picked out invitations.

On second thought, you really should just have a destination wedding like your best friend, Beth. Now that was awesome!

Also, Mike is planning a surprise party for your 23rd birthday. So stop listening to your mom freak out about flower arrangements or seating charts, dry those tears, and just let the man take you to dinner. Thirty of your dearest and closest friends are getting tired of waiting for you to arrive.

So sorry to ruin the surprise, but you really should know you’re being a party pooper.

love,

Older, wiser you.

P.S. I’ll be back in 10 years to chastise present you.

Do you have something to say to your 20-something self? Email it to cassieboorn {at} gmail {dot} com and she’ll post it on her blog. Fabulous idea, by that way!

Trying to make mommy friends is very often compared to dating– lots of hanging around, making discreet eye contact, sizing up the prospects…

Add to that scheduling conflicts around naps and mealtimes, geographic desirability, and toddler temperaments and I’d say that the mommy “dating pool” is far more brutal… and mostly out of our control.

Not only are you expected to bring your “A-Game”, you better hope your kid does too.

It doesn’t matter how charming and witty YOU are. One angry swipe of a sand shovel or blow-up over whose turn it is to play with the stupid “bubble mower” and you can pretty much kiss your chances of “same time, same place next week” buh-bye…

I’ve actually done pretty well meeting new people since we’ve moved here. I joined and have been relatively active in a great moms’ group. I’m in the book club and I volunteer to do things like organize activities for the annual summer picnic.

While it’s nice to run into a familiar face at the grocery store or get birthday party invitations, I’m still looking for the ONE.

Someone who I can call up at 4:30 in the afternoon and say, “My day’s been balls and I just ran out of dish soap. Do you want to walk around Wal-Mart with me? I’ll buy you a dooooo-nut!”…

Or better yet, “So my house is a wreck and my child is out of control, but this boxed wine won’t drink itself. Want to come over? No judgment!”

Someone who won’t recoil in horror if my son shoves her kid for taking a toy away, because next week, it will be the other way around. She’d simply say, “(Insert child’s name) probably had it coming”, which is funny because that’s exactly what I would say.

Of course, a little squabble like that doesn’t really matter since our kids will love one another 99 80 75% of the time.

So imagine my joy when I met “Jessica” and her family over the weekend.

We were waiting in line to ride the kiddie train at Oak Meadow Park when Scout and her son started a pointless shouting match that basically went…

“Yes!”

“No!”

“YES!”

“NO!”

I think the game was who could shout the loudest, but it soon escalated to who could kick the hardest…

She and her husband laughed out loud when Mr. D and I apologized for our kid being a total PUNK. I knew right away that these are fun people.

After exchanging some “boys will be boys” platitudes, we learned that they also just moved to the area and don’t really know a lot of people.

Cool. We’re people!

Our boys are the same age and they just had a baby.

Hey, we’re about to have a baby!

“Jessica” stays home with the kids (just like me!). We’re even in the same moms’ group. Different chapters, but still… and, best part, they live one block away from us.

Swoon!

You mean, we could actually have friends IN the neighborhood! Walking distance even!!!

Swoon! Swoon!

She and I made a play date to meet at the park. “Thursday. 11 am. Got it! See you then!”

Well, Thursday morning came. We showed up. They did not.

I was disappointed, but not entirely miffed about it. We didn’t exchange any info, so it’s not like she could have called and didn’t.

Besides, she seemed pretty frazzled by the whole “juggling two kids” routine. I’m merely days away from being right there with her. Anything could have happened between now and then… Right? Right?

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Meanwhile at the park, a grandmother crossed the playground and stood over Scout and I as we played in the sand. Her young grandson followed after.

Once the little boy caught up with her, she started gesturing wildly and talking about us as if pointing out some horrible and ill behavior.

No, no. That’s not quite right. It was more like she was making an example of two caged monkeys flinging poo.

I wish I could tell you what we were doing that was worthy of such a fuss. Too bad she was speaking in… RUSSIAN.

I have no idea what she could have been squawking about. The only questionable behavior being displayed was the fact that I’m nine months pregnant and sitting in a pile of sand that I may… or may not… be able to get out of on my own.

Not wise, but hardly worth being made an example of…

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Eventually, it was time for lunch, which I had packed in anticipation of a long, chatty play date. So much for that… Humph!

Scout told me he was hungry at the same time another mom nearby was calling her kids to lunch.

She and I had caught one another’s eye as I looked around for “Jessica”… keeping hope alive and all. She had a little girl about Scout’s age and an infant in tow.

She seemed nice too. She’d look over at us and smile. I’d smile back.

As I gathered our sand toys, I noticed that there were only two picnic tables at the park and one was already occupied. So, I approached her and asked if she wanted to share a table with us.

“Uh. Uh…. No. It’s… er, I mean, We’re okay… Uh… We need to wash our hands,” she stammered.

Umm… I guess what she really meant to say was “HELLS NO.”

A few minutes later, the people at the other table left and they ended up sitting right next to us, backs turned AWAY… of course.

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So, stood up, shunned, and made a public spectacle… and all in one morning at the park.

How was your day?

When it comes to social networking, there’s a certain topic that comes up every so often. It can be a touchy subject, but always an interesting debate…

Should you friend an ex on Facebook/Twitter/MySapce?

Basically, it all comes down to intent and how comfortable your spouse is with the situation. Done.

I’m Facebook friends with only one of my ex-boyfriends… the only one who I wouldn’t mind being real life friends with again.

“Ruh-roh, Raggy”

No, no, no. I really do mean JUST FRIENDS and only if happenstance were to randomly place us in the exact same city and across the street from one another again.

And why not? Based on his profile, he seems just as cool, funny, and interesting as always. (And so does his beautiful wife.)

Of course, I wouldn’t really know. He and I haven’t spoken much since his father’s funeral six or seven years ago. We had already been broken up for well over a year at that point.

The details of our past relationship and subsequent break-up are irrelevant. I’ve never even discussed them with Mr. D beyond “yeah, we dated in college, but then I married YOU, had YOUR baby, then moved around the world for YOUR career”…

He’s aware that my ex is on my Facebook and so far, has never voiced any concern about it. I suppose my ex’s wife feels the same way since he’s the one that “friended” me. So far that’s been the extent of our contact.

He and I don’t talk on the phone or exchange e-mails, not even the perfectly harmless “hey, how’s it going” variety. No IMs. No birthday greetings. We don’t even leave comments for or about one another.

I doubt he really cares that I bought a new vacuum cleaner (20 minutes ago) or about my latest cravings for pickles and ice cream (April 17 at 2:32pm)…

Wait, does anyone?

Frankly, I don’t even see the point in being “friends” at all.

From what I can tell from his sporadic updates and posted photos, he’s happy, married to a very lovely person, and has an adorable little boy and I think that’s wonderful.

I too am happy, married to a very lovely person, have an adorable little boy and another little one on the way.

HA! HA! I WIN AT LIFE!

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Update: As I was proofreading this post, my ex left a comment on my profile for the very first time and it was about the vacuum cleaner. Grrr. Still always has to prove me wrong, huh?  That is SO the reason it didn’t work out with us.

Okay. Not really, but still.

I’ve haven’t seen much of my next door neighbors since the day we moved in. I figure they scoped us out, determined we probably aren’t the “playin’-mahjong-’til-six-in-the-morn” type, and simply went on with their lives.

The few times I’ve seen them outside, I’ve stopped to say “hello”, but that only seems to hurry them along faster.

Feeling all too isolated, I turned to my computer, because… uh, well, you know…

Like a total dork, I reached out to another blogger who seems so nice and approachable on her blog and other projects, and just so happens to live in Silicon Valley too.

I explained that I’m a recent transplant to the area, don’t know a soul, and am looking for a local bloggers groups, like the London Bloggers Meetup.

Perhaps even something as informal as the “Mommy Bloggers’ Nights Out” organized by some of my favorite Dallas-Fort Worth bloggers. I never got to attend since we MOVED just as they began having them… Grrr.

Anyway, know of any?

When she responded saying no she did not, but we should totally start our own group, I was so into it.

Well, I must have sounded a little too eager/desperate when I wrote back ten seconds later and said “YES!” When?!” because it’s been crickets chirping ever since…

Maybe she’s just been busy…

Or maybe I’m just a giant LOOOO-ser…