Save the Drama…
I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that maybe I’m not a mom’s mom. I don’t really enjoy play dates, I don’t read mom blogs, I don’t have the desire to make cool things for M off pinterest or whatever. I kinda just do what I need to do to get by. I don’t like being categorized or labeled as a mom. I don’t know where I got this idea that moms are judgmental and competitive. And I’ve always felt really awkward around kids….I’m not really sure why. Maybe because I was never sure I wanted to be a mom? Most of my friends have kids and I love my friends dearly. They are amazing, funny women who aren’t catty or competitive. But I always feel awkward to some degree and they all seem so natural in their roles. Maybe they feel awkward too but cope with it better than I? Maybe we need to work at just being girlfriends and not “moms”? Maybe I have an unhealthy view of what a mom is? Arg.
Play dates always induce a tiny amount of terror in my blood. What if M has a meltdown and I don’t know how to deal with it? What if she starts taking toys from others? I can’t be lazy, I have to do the mom thing and teach her to share. pshhh! 😉 So really it’s all about insecurity. I’m an insecure mom…there, I said it. I second guess how to discipline M in front of others, how to interact with other kids, how to chat with other moms, whats acceptable to share and what crosses the line. (I don’t mind being vulnerable and real, but there’s always those moms that take it the wrong way. Instead of opening up about themselves, they feel the need to give advice, tell you how to “fix” the problem, call you “sweetie” and “honey” and treat you like a clueless, lost puppy. I’m not a fan of those people. Anyway, back to play dates.) Play dates on the surface seem like a fantastic idea, get time to catch up with friends while your kids all play nicely together. But its all a facade. You’re so busy making sure little Billie doesn’t break his head open, choke on a rock or poop on the floor, there’s really nothing relaxing or “chill” about it. And IF there is real time to chat, its in broken sentences and thoughts, in between tantrums and boogie wiping. I come away never knowing what or if I actually spoke about anything that made sense or was meaningful. You’re always half listening to your friend and half listening for your kid. Our minds are toddler mush, swimming in a sea of Disney tunes and garbled English. So I walk away tired, but somewhat satisfied, knowing I’ve provided some “social interaction” for my child and knocked out some friend time. I am a good mom.
But this is my life right now. Tiredness, diapers, dirty floors, tantrums, teething…play dates. And these are the women I’m powering through this phase with. We are mush, but we all know why we’re mush, we understand each other. We’re all in the same baby-poop-filled boat. It’s all a phase that will pass too quickly. And when it’s gone, I’m sure I’ll miss it. I’ll miss M’s little stinky toes with the tiny pieces of lint in between, I’ll miss her scrunchy smile face, her fishy kiss face, her crazy gnarled hair on the back of her head, the way she shares everything with her stuffed animals, her words that make no sense, those baby/toddler thighs…OH THOSE THIGHS! Maybe I just don’t want to get old.
Or maybe I’m just plain tired. 🙂