So I was going to make chocolate covered strawberries for a “bring your favorite salad” themed playgroup today. My chocolate seized, Harper started fussing, Dignon started begging. So I soothed the baby, shoved the icky chocolate in the freezer (there was no logic behind that move), put the dog out, and cut up some carrots into what I like to call ‘carrot sticks’. (They are carrot sticks, just a bit random cuz I have the knife skills of a second grader on crack, or whatever the kids are calling it these days.) I put the ‘carrot sticks’ in some Tupperware lined with paper towel, for presentation, and headed to the playdate.
Let me preface this scene a bit. I mean this in the kindest of ways; the mommies are mostly yuppies who have, after a long fruitful career, become stay at home moms. Thier husbands are in law or finace (as if there is another option.) However, this playdate is in what some might call a not so nice neighborhood. Granted, if any of these ladies liked me before, they probably don’t after reading that intro, which brings me to the point of my story.
Have you ever had one of those “ah-ha!” moments? Was it shortly followed by a realization that the people you are around don’t really like you? That was my playdate.
I splayed open my ‘carrot sicks’ in their Bounty lined plastic, next to the array of caprice salads nestled in white platters and announced “I cut up those ‘carrot sticks’ myself.” Maybe that is why the don’t like me.
Or, maybe, it was when Harper, all of six and a half months, chose this day, of all days, to stand on her own for the first time. I probably did not help myself when I repeatedly announced to a room full of moms with babies who are older then Harper that don’t stand (some who do not crawl), “LOOK! She is standing! My baby can stand! LOOOOOOOOOK!” They did have to look fast, though, cuz she can only stand for like one whole second, maybe.
I’m sure I could speculate endlessly about why these ladies don’t like me, but why do I care? It is not like everyone likes me, or I expect everyone to like me. Normally, I’m totally cool with not being liked. I don’t like everyone.
It is just that, when Harper was three months, these ladies were like my best friends. I knew at the time we had nothing in common outside of being first time moms, but that seemed like enough. I though it would be fun to be friends with people I would normally never ever hang out with. Perhaps, that was not such a good idea. It really is a good thing, too, that we have finally got out wits about us enough to know that we should not be best friends. It is good that we are getting enough sleep and some perspective about who we are now, now that we are moms.
Or, maybe, they don’t like me because I let Harper eat dirt… And feed herself Cheerios…
Milkymilk 