"It's been fun getting to know you" I said, smiling, "would you like to exchange emails...maybe get together for a playdate?"
She looked at me for an impolite amount of time before answering, "no."
Not "we're so busy these days."
Not "we're actually moving to Belgium next week."
Not "our religion prohibits us from partaking in playdates."
Just "no."
It was so awful. I think I mumbled something like, "hee hee, oh, yes yes, of course, I didn't actually think... I mean... no, no, I wouldn't ever presume...a playdate!?!? How silly of me..." as I gathered my things and got the hell out of there.
I've only had a few boyfriends in my life. I've never really done the romantic dating thing. But mom-friend dating has to be at least as awful as boyfriend dating. Especially since you're expected to bring your emotionally unstable three-year-old and highly gaseous/biting/crazy-person 19-month-old along.
I recently met *Julia (*her actual name, since I'm guessing she doesn't read my blog) while picking Charlie up at preschool and I was really, really, REALLY excited when she asked me to meet her and her children for a picnic the next day. The morning of the big date I shaved my legs, emptied my kids' dresser in search of non-stained clothes, and screamed like a banshee pretty much non-stop: "I swear to God, Charlie, if you act this way in front of Julia you will make mommy CRY!!!" "Jimmy, this better be your last poopy diaper until AFTER our playdate!" "Bill! Where are you? Get ready for work later! I have to get ready for our playdate!"
Fortunately, the playdate went pretty well. Julia made just the right amount of "Fancy Dallas Lady" comments to come across as smart and different but not mean, and Jimmy, miraculously, didn't dribble poo down his leg. It was only later, while reflecting on the date, that I realized how out of my league Julia & Co. probably are. I recalled lunchtime, when Julia brought out two tiny lunch boxes, one blue and one pink, and how her son and daughter took the correct ones without any sort of fistfight. And while we sat on her fluffy picnic blanket, her kids took appropriately sized bites of their balanced meals--strawberries, safely sliced grapes, sandwiches cut into dainty strips--while Jimmy tried to dive off a nearby rocky ledge and Charlie repeatedly slid down a steep dirt path (right next to an actual, non-dirt slide) and ripped his pants. And me? I watched my kids ruin their only non-stained clothing while I ate our lunch: a peanut butter sandwich with a heal mark in the middle of it, which I pulled from a plastic Kroger bag.
I want to be like Julia. But I'm stuck with my little chumps, and they're stuck with me. I think we might be the equivalent of the goateed/sweatpant-clad/cat-obsessed blind date guy. Great.
3 comments:
HAHA!!! Courtney I love your description of the playdate scene - it rings very, very true. :-)
As I was trying to decide if I was more "Julia" or "blind date guy", Andrew sneezed blowing a snot bubble as big as his head. Pretty good answer.
Just so you know, I was always amazed you and the Oxford playgroup gals ever invited me anywhere for the same reasons. You guys were pretty, put together, and spoke intelligently! I had no idea what I was(am) doing as a parent and often feel like a total loser and failure.
You're way classier than you think you are, Courtney ;-)
Nit, Despite the trials and tribulations of finding either an appropriate boyfriend or girlfriend
you have always managed to do so.
Although I think you are perfect, there does seem to be a buffer time
for you between meeting and making friends. Just think of Stephanie, Maggie, Maureen, Courtney 2, and of course Billy and you will realize it is only a matter of time before you click with the perfect friend.
Mean while, my grandsons may not be always behave, but they sure are funny, as is their mommy. Once again, I think you are a modern day "Erma Bombeck" and you should either write a column or a book on the frustations of parenting.
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