I've always wanted to join the mommy groups. That group of girls who sits at Starbucks with their skinny decaf lattes, talking breastfeeding and breastfeeding poops, holding impossibly cute babies while trying to wrangle down their hyperactive toddlers.
But this scenario takes duex (or whatever comes after duex in French. I don't actually know French. Or Italian. Or any other foreign, romantic language. I just mean it takes more than moi). As in - I can't just sit there myself and do it, or else I look like what I really am. A frazzled Preggo drinking actual caffeine (gasp!) because I need it to chase after my annoyingly hyperactive toddler who (shocker!) doesn't want to listen to me, but wants to break every "un"breakable coffee mug Starbucks sells.
High school was right - friends make you look cooler.
I began searching for this group while I was Preggo. Continued searching after Bjorn was born and throughout his first year. Found some great girls that I know only online. Figured out as well that I had some pretty dang good friends here in town, four of whom had kids. Aha - my very own Mommy group!
Except online friends can't meet you at Starbucks in the middle of a very very grumpy afternoon. And my in-town friends with kids? They had their own lives, and couldn't always meet when I was free. Which meant. . . .
I needed to join a Mommy's Group.
Ugh. I dread that. Because as much as I want to be a part of a group, I want to be a part of a group that I love, and that loves me. And how can picking one off the Meetup.com or Momslikeme.com mean I meet my perfect group of friends? Could there be a Match.com for Mommy groups? (Questions: When you meet for playdates, in your thermos do you have a) organic, no sugar added apple juice. The kid is always thirsty! b) Oops. I forgot the thermos again! Hope someone else's mommy will share their juice with him! or c) bloody marys or mimosas. I need it to get through a playdate with this many kids.)
I recruited my friend Nic to browse through Mommy Meetups and finally decided to join the one she was in. After all, I like her, she likes me, so at least I have one friend in the group already.
The first playdate was a demo class for KinderMusik. My kid, the one with the always dripping nose, had a blast running around, banging on drums and shaking maracas. A born musician.
Halfway through the class, the Mommy Group Leader overhears the music teacher ask me Bjorn's age.
"21 months," I answered.
"Uhmmmm," says Group Leader Mommy, leaning forward," Did you say - 21 months?"
"Oh well, I guess he's 20 months. Or two weeks from being 21 months. Almost there. I don't really keep track of his age that closely. I just know he'll be two in June!" I joke, laughing at the fact that I am one of those moms who don't really do "motherhood" that strictly.
"Hmmmm." Group Leader Mommy Bitch says.
She was obviously verrrry disappointed in my inability to keep track of my child's age. Or his nose, as I found out later.
My absolute favorite activity to take Bjorn to is an open house gym where they throw all the kids gymnastics equipment in the middle of the bouncy gym floor and tell the kids to have at it. There are balance beams and vaults, uneven bars and trampolines. They throw balls and jump rope and jump into a giant pit of foam blocks.
The week after my KinderMusik class, I brought Bjorn and was talking to one of the instructors at the gym.
"You know, we had a crazy Mommy here last week. She wanted her money back ($5!!!) because one of the little girls that showed up here had a runny nose and we let her in to play. As if we can keep every kid out that has a runny nose!! Its the winter. Everyone has a runny nose! She yelled and threatened and we practically threw her money at her. As she was telling us she was going to leave and never was going to come back!"
I relayed that info to Nic later that afternoon. "Can you believe it?! Some moms are sooooo crazy! Every kid has a freakin' runny nose all the time!"
"Yeah, girl, I know. . . and guess what?! That was Crazy Group Leader Mommy Bitch!"
Wow. It gets better, too.
Nic RSVP'd to a date night murder mystery theatre dinner CGLMB was throwing at her house only to find out her Hubs had to work that night. I was thrilled to step in - dress up in character and see whodunit in the library with a knife?! Sounds fun - and sounds like something I could never possibly convince my Hubs to do. And CGLMB had already set up a babysitter at her house, so all was good with Bjorn. Nic called up CGLMB and told her I was coming instead.
And I was a No-Go. Apparently, since Bjorn hasn't been to many playdates yet, she was afraid (before he even showed up, before she even knows my kid, before she even asked Nic or me what he is like) that he wouldn't be able to handle being at someone else's house and he would ruin our dinner. That the babysitter wouldn't be able to deal with him and the other kids whom he doesn't know. That he would be a problem.
Now I know exactly why I hadn't joined a sorority in college. I don't like playing games. I don't like kissing butt. I don't like playing nice.
It's on, CGLMB. You don't mess with me, and you absolutely don't mess with my kid. It is so completely and totally on.