I emerged from my self-imposed sick-kid exile just long enough to attend a "Moms' Night Out" yesterday. It was with the mothers' group that I joined months ago... and have pretty much ignored.
I don't attend their monthly meetings, haven't volunteered to make dinner for any of the new mommies/new members, and seldom participate in the children's activities. The other day I was invited to join another moms' group local to our town, but figured I probably should spend more time with the one I got before two-timing it. So, I decided to start with the "Moms' Night Out" and I have to admit, I had "first date jitters".
I mean, I just spent the last few days exhaustively observing toddler poops... What funny, witty, clever, topical things could I possibly have to discuss... over dinner?
Fortunately, I was with a group of other stay-at-home moms who were equally as desperate for adult conversation beyond, "Hi Honey, how was your day today?" The conversation pretty much took care of itself as everyone eagerly discussed their favorite topic.... THEIR KIDS!
As expected, there was endless comparing of notes, shameless bragging, equally shameless complaining, and the usual stock anecdotes. At dinner, I found myself wedged between a new mother of a 7 month old and a mother of six ranging from 3 to 17 years old. Across the table, there was a mother of four, all under age 6, and another mom pregnant for the second time. With such varied background, I was amused by the "experienced moms' " reactions to us, the "rookies".
Benefiting from their years of "perspective", the older moms were less than engrossed in our rantings about switching to sippy cups and our toddlers' separation anxiety. Sipping away at their margaritas, they would interject the occasional, "Yeah, I guess that was sort of bad when we went through it with our first three kids...four, five, and six's toddler years are kind of a blur. Huh? I guess I don't really remember now..."
As I stood helpless before my son's latest "my gums hurt/where's my #%&* toy/you wouldn't let me pour my own juice" meltdown this morning, it was difficult to consider that one day this "phase" will just be a distant memory as both of us get older and wiser. While I wouldn't wish away a single moment of my son's childhood, I long for the days when the teething, potty training, and tantrums are behind me too... and I can say to a new crop of rookies, "yeah, we got through it..."
I don't know that parenting gets harder or easier with time. So far, I've found that everything is a stage and each stage is just different. Not better, not worse. Just different and one day tantrums will turn into back talk will turn into missing curfew will turn into... etc.
When that happens, I know that I'll just long for the days when I could cure all by picking him up off the floor, giving him a hug, and putting him down for a nap.
I don't attend their monthly meetings, haven't volunteered to make dinner for any of the new mommies/new members, and seldom participate in the children's activities. The other day I was invited to join another moms' group local to our town, but figured I probably should spend more time with the one I got before two-timing it. So, I decided to start with the "Moms' Night Out" and I have to admit, I had "first date jitters".
I mean, I just spent the last few days exhaustively observing toddler poops... What funny, witty, clever, topical things could I possibly have to discuss... over dinner?
Fortunately, I was with a group of other stay-at-home moms who were equally as desperate for adult conversation beyond, "Hi Honey, how was your day today?" The conversation pretty much took care of itself as everyone eagerly discussed their favorite topic.... THEIR KIDS!
As expected, there was endless comparing of notes, shameless bragging, equally shameless complaining, and the usual stock anecdotes. At dinner, I found myself wedged between a new mother of a 7 month old and a mother of six ranging from 3 to 17 years old. Across the table, there was a mother of four, all under age 6, and another mom pregnant for the second time. With such varied background, I was amused by the "experienced moms' " reactions to us, the "rookies".
Benefiting from their years of "perspective", the older moms were less than engrossed in our rantings about switching to sippy cups and our toddlers' separation anxiety. Sipping away at their margaritas, they would interject the occasional, "Yeah, I guess that was sort of bad when we went through it with our first three kids...four, five, and six's toddler years are kind of a blur. Huh? I guess I don't really remember now..."
As I stood helpless before my son's latest "my gums hurt/where's my #%&* toy/you wouldn't let me pour my own juice" meltdown this morning, it was difficult to consider that one day this "phase" will just be a distant memory as both of us get older and wiser. While I wouldn't wish away a single moment of my son's childhood, I long for the days when the teething, potty training, and tantrums are behind me too... and I can say to a new crop of rookies, "yeah, we got through it..."
I don't know that parenting gets harder or easier with time. So far, I've found that everything is a stage and each stage is just different. Not better, not worse. Just different and one day tantrums will turn into back talk will turn into missing curfew will turn into... etc.
When that happens, I know that I'll just long for the days when I could cure all by picking him up off the floor, giving him a hug, and putting him down for a nap.
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