Average Jane Seeks Posse of Ride or Die Moms To Rule The World

I am not a weirdo. Let’s just get that out there right away so nobody has this crazy idea the reason I’ve had difficulty locking down a group of close friends is due to overt weirdness. I’m not a sneaky sniffer of armpits on the bus, nor a coffee-breathed close-talker. I don’t chew with my mouth open, or yell colorful obscenities at unsuspecting bystanders. I’m not a drunken nuisance, unless you count the time in college I tried to steal a mechanical Christmas reindeer from someone’s yard, and ended up barfing on their nativity scene.

reindeer

“Oh hey there, little deer. Don’t worry, I’m just going to barf on your little baby buddy…”

Nope. I’m not a weirdo, or at least not in the traditional sense. In fact, I’m pretty darn average. I’m average looking, with a pleasantly average demeanor. I typically make friends with average ease, and maintain my friendships with the average amount of kindness, loyalty and respect one would expect from a true friend.

Yet for some reason, since having a baby, I have had more trouble finding a group of close friends than the victim in a slasher film has not falling down while running away from the aforementioned slasher.

This isn’t to say I haven’t met any friends. Over the last two years I have been lucky enough to cross paths with a couple incredible women who absolutely fill my cup, and whose friendship I appreciate with every fiber of my being, but I just thought making friends post-baby would be different. I thought it would be easier. I thought becoming a mom would break down barriers between women, and automatically bond me with anyone else who was a mom because we both sublet our stomachs for nine months. I naively pictured my motherhood friendships being like those portrayed in the Devine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood: Women who were so close, they could drug and kidnap your adult kid when she was being snotty, just to prove to her that her mother wasn’t the monster she made her out to be. Or at the very least, women who didn’t feel the need to shower or clean their house before inviting me over for a spur-of-the-moment, guilt-free 3pm beer on a day one (or both of us) were struggling.

devine secrets

“You just drug her. It will be fine. Then she won’t think I’m a monster! It totally makes sense!”

But this perfect posse of procreating women alludes me, and I can’t help but wonder, why?

Did I miss the turn to the notorious “village?” You know, the one where everybody helps raise the kids? Did the decoder ring that would grant me access to the I Just Had A Baby So Let’s Be Best Friends Club get lost in the mail? Is there a secret handshake, or a gang sign that was described in the baby care booklet the hospital sent home with me, outlining how to communicate your allegiance to the Parental Posse from across the park? Or, am I actually a weirdo?

Of course I can recognize this is a multifaceted issue. Exhaustion, impossible schedules, (nonexistent) naps, jobs, spouses- it all plays a role. But I can’t help but wonder if something we have control over, namely how we choose to label ourselves, is factoring into how difficult we make it to bond with other women. Labels can be helpful, but labels can just as easily lead to judgement and divisions. We identify as baby wearers, and La Leche Leaguers, SAHMs and CEOs. We are single moms, and working moms, “traditional” moms and moms married to moms. We are “natural birthers” and C-Section survivors, attachment parents and free-range “criminals” if you believe the state of Maryland. These labels don’t define who we are, but rather just a small piece of the puzzle that makes up our full story. Can’t we look past everything else and focus on the common thread we all share? I mean, what parent doesn’t have an EPIC poop-up-the-back story they are just dying to tell?

poopy anders

Like this. Who doesn’t want to talk about this?

It’s easy for me to withhold judgement and listen to what someone else has to say behind the anonymity of a computer screen. It’s much harder to do this in person, I get that. But it can be done. So I will keep trying, in hopes of one day nailing down a posse of fellow non-labeling, open-minded, semi-awkward-but-not-full-blown-weirdo ride or die moms, who, under the necessary circumstances, would drug and kidnap my adult child to convince her I wasn’t a monster. Now who’s with me?

If you’re interested in learning more about moms supporting moms, and changing the course of the mom wars, check out #mommitment on Facebook, Twitter, and the blogosphere, or read about it from Julie at Next Life, NO Kids. Let’s work together to spread love and support, and end negativity towards each other.

Image credits: deer, Devine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, Poop up the back belongs to HMDHM. Cover image.

52 comments

    1. I’m so glad I made you laugh. No friends is so crappy! What gives, man?! I had a computer scare a few weeks ago, and honest to god almost had a mental breakdown because the blogging community has been my connection to the outside world for so long now. Maybe that sounds lame, but it’s so much easier here… Time to get out and meet some people I think!

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      1. Hah! I think I would do the same! I does suck, what’s worse is I’ve tried to make contact with my friends but they don’t really respond. It makes me wonder if they were truly my friends to begin with. I’ve always been a bit of a loner and really enjoyed having friends when I did and now I’m back to being a loner again lol, I don’t mind so much because I’ve got my little one to keep me entertained but there’s something very satisfying about adult conversation

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  3. Awesome article. I’m not a mom so I won’t pretend to understand what you’re going through, but it’s refreshing to hear someone give the real on the whole mom situation. It ain’t all finger painting, butterfly kisses and baking cookies!

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    1. Thanks for the thoughtful comment, and the twitter share, too 🙂 It ISN’T all finger painting and baking cookies, that’s for sure. But I will say at least when we bake cookies, I get to eat most of them because our kid barely has teeth still… so I’ve got that going for me 😉

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  4. Love it! I’m already a member of this posse, and posted a similar blog entry about this very thing! Except my personal ad was titled Louise searching for her Thelma…want to be friends? 🙂

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  7. Oh I definitely feel you here – I myself have no problem making connections with people, but putting in the time and effort to maintain those connections and let them grow into friendships is the part I don’t do so well with. So I don’t have any friends either and no one to blame but myself.

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    1. It’s so hard to find the time and energy to do that. A wise family friends told me today it would take time, which is something I suppose I haven’t considered. Perhaps at this stage it’s unrealistic to think we could make these connections yet. All we have time to do is lay the ground work, and hopefully some day it turns into more!

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  9. That is one of the most epic poop I’ve ever seen (I bet I have a worse one tomorrow because I’ve just jinxed myself). If you find a good map to that village can you share please?

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      6. Oh no! That would be shocking… They would be very sick or very silly… Both of them are too old for that… My challenges are on another level nowadays 😉 Never a dull moment…

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  10. Gang signs. *snort* You crack me up, girlfriend! I think the wedge between us is less ‘clash of parenting philosophies’, more ‘totally living on the wrong continent’. But if ever one of us is on the right continent, we are so getting together for that 3pm beer.

    Also, our most epic poo was twelve days in the making thanks to an undiagnosed dairy intolerance. It was briefly contained by her clothing, but gravity worked its magic and it ended up running down her leg and being strained out the foot of her onesie. Why did we not get a photo?? Priorities, man.

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    2. TWELVE DAYS?! That must have been POUNDS of poo! I wish you had a pic, too! That would have probably won you some sort of Guinness Book of World Records notoriety. And yes, if we ever end up within a few thousand mild radius, we will make that beer a reality!

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      1. Yeah, twelve days. I was a nervous wreck from about Day 9, having previously seen a Seven Day Poo which was already pretty alarming. Poonami doesn’t even begin to describe it. This child also holds a (separate) record for the stinkiest poo of all time, which shall always be referred to in our family as The Sunday Night Poo – guess why?

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  11. I guess life takes over and as you said you are suddenly crazy busy with your child and your life, cleaning, cooking, washing (all over again) and then there is your partner as well and somehow the day only has 24 hours and they are over in no time, no matter how long it might seem at certain points. As the kids grow (I found) you suddenly connect with moms as the kids connect with each other.

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  14. Once I had kids, most of my friends who haven’t had kids are gone. They hung out for a year or two, but they are now long gone, and I get glimpses of their lives on Facebook. There’s no conflict or anything, but our lives are so different. I do have mom friends, but it’s so hard to find the time to connect with them when I work 5 days/week and want to be with my family on the weekends. It’s hard because I don’t get to bond closely to friends like I did before kids.

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  15. HERE I AM!!! I had no idea you were looking for me!! I’ve been looking for you for 24 years! HERE! OVER HERE!!!**waves arms franticly**

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  16. I have been trying to read this all frigging week! ! I totally get it. I struggle with this too! Please let me join your posse? Although I am actually a weirdo. However, I am all over day time time beer drinking! I reckon me, you and Glynis would have an awesome time!!

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  17. Pingback: In The Search For Your Village, Sometimes You Are Your Own Worst Enemy | Hold Me, Don't Hold Me

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