All new moms are familiar with the quest for mom-friends.
If you're anything like me, you were the first of your friends to get married. Heck, if you're really anything like me, you're the ONLY one of your friends to get married. We all know how that popular childhood taunt goes, "First comes love, first comes marriage...then comes the baby in the baby carriage!" Needless to say, I'm also the only one amongst our friends with a wee babe in tow. As much as I love my friends and vice versa, I'm fairly certain they don't want to hear about Carter's latest eat/sleep/anti-nap/poop tendencies. Or how I think that he's the cutest, most darling baby on the face of the earth. Hence, enter: the need for mom-friends.
So, where does one find such a friend?
I've stalked the neighborhood. I've kept a close eye out for those moms who I see pushing strollers along our sidewalked streets. I may or may not have made mental notes in regards to their routes and during what time of the day they're doing their strolling. I've looked through our church bulletin. I've written a list of other places to check out, including the local library and municipal center. Atop that list, however, was the local Gymboree. I grew up going to Gymboree classes with my mom and over the last 27 years, she never stopped talking about the wonders of Gymbo the clown.
Gymboree? "Score one for mom friends. This place has GOT to be chock full of them," I thought! Despite it's rather hefty price tag (I could join a gym and work off my last ten Carter-pounds for less than this!), I looked into the first free-pass class available and counted down the days until.. today.
It was... fun. If by having fun, you mean having stranger mommies comparing your son's every move, every breath, to their child's. Talk about a bad case of the judgies. Sheesh.
Before I even slipped out of my Uggs and into stocking feet, I had a fellow mommy ask, "Your son has such good head control. How old is he?" Not, "O my gosh, your son is absolutely adorable." Or "I just love that striped pom-pom hat he's wearing." Not even a "Hi, my name is [ your new mommy friend]!" She then immediately turned to her son and said, "Ok, Mason. You aren't too much younger than Carter. Let's work on that head control!"
Clearly, Mason is going to be that child, nineteen years from now, atop some bell tower somewhere, yielding a semi-automatic weapon. I kid. I kid.
Okay, so maybe this was an isolated incident. Let's actually step into the ring (of judgies) and take a seat on the playmat (of "death stares and stink faces, because my kid is or isn't doing that [insert milestone here] yet!)
For the next 45 minutes, I proceeded to sit in a circle with 6 other mommies whose babies ranged in ages from 10 weeks to 5 and a half months. As Carter attemped a roll from back to belly, I swear I heard a gasp from the mouth of the mommy sitting across from me. This gasp came right after she literally tried pushing her 12 week old over from belly to back. "Just a nudge in the right direction," she said with a little laugh.
The mommy sitting to my left complimented Carter on his football onesie. "Yes! A mom-friend," I thought to myself. But to no avail. Before I was able to thank her and tell her I scored it on sale at Old Navy, she asked, "Is he sleeping through the night yet?"
I thought High School soccer was going to be intense. I never expected Gymboree to be so.. rivalrous. I just wanted to sing, "If You're Happy and You Know It..."
Who knew making mom-friends was going to be so tough? Excuse me while Carter and I go and practice his times tables. You know, right after I teach him his colors and letters in Spanish.