By Michelle Civalier
My childhood may be over, but that doesn't mean playtime is.
~Ron Olson
Marriage is wonderful for a lot of reasons, especially because you no longer have to date. As I tossed my bouquet to all of the single gals, I also threw away the need to constantly suck in my stomach, wear make-up to bed, blow-dry my hair after every shower, and pretend like I never do "Number Two." It was such a liberating moment. Unfortunately, it didn't last.
My childhood may be over, but that doesn't mean playtime is.
~Ron Olson
Marriage is wonderful for a lot of reasons, especially because you no longer have to date. As I tossed my bouquet to all of the single gals, I also threw away the need to constantly suck in my stomach, wear make-up to bed, blow-dry my hair after every shower, and pretend like I never do "Number Two." It was such a liberating moment. Unfortunately, it didn't last.
Three years flew by, and our little family grew by one toddler. I am my son's chief playmate, but after a few years of constant companionship, I began to suspect he had grown bored with me. I couldn't blame him. Frankly, I am a little dull. My version of "Old McDonald Had a Farm" always uses the same animals. I only have two silly faces, and I'm terrible at vehicle impersonations. It was clearly time to find us a friend.
I knew exactly the type of mom I needed. She would have an open schedule and a yearning desire for adult company, as well as be respectful and tolerant of my germ phobias. Her fashion would consist predominantly of elastic, so I wouldn't have to start wearing real clothes and sucking in my (now much bigger) stomach again. And, of course, she must have a toddler about my son's age.
I plopped my son into his stroller, and proceeded to scope out the neighborhood. Apparently, I am surrounded by a million young children who are parented by a million working mothers without the time or energy to pencil me into their already hectic schedules. A couple of them put in a sincere effort to plan a play date, but ultimately their laundry was more important. I had to broaden my search.
I met a lady at the park with a child my son's age, but her slingbacks and carefully styled hair confined her to a bench (with her cell phone), leaving me to socialize with both of our children. Another lady I met was nice enough, but the runny nose she swore was teething-related made my household sick for two weeks. Pretty soon, I was handing out my number to mothers at the toy store and the market, and even posting bulletins on the Internet. Everyone responded to my desperate attempts at friendliness with big eyes and a plastered smile, but no one ever called.
Friendless and still unable to come up with more interesting animals to live on Old McDonald's humongous farm, I decided to take a break from my playmate dating. I was standing in my driveway one afternoon, trying to entertain my son with the wonders of rock landscaping, when Lisa walked by with her toddler. Lisa was a stay-at-home mom! Lisa didn't want to come onto my driveway because her son was getting over a cold, and she didn't want to share his germs! Lisa wore exercise pants and one of her husband's T-shirts, and her hair looked dirty! She was perfect. We exchanged numbers and set a date.
As with any first date, I was nervous, but still looking forward to it with eager anticipation. I had dreams of impromptu trips to the zoo together, walking our little ones to their first day of kindergarten, and splitting the cost of a limo for their prom. Of course, I was forgetting one major detail.
My son had to enjoy the date, as well. Not only was I thrust back into the dating world, but now there was an extra person with his own set of criteria. Apparently, my child wanted a friend who would share his toys without hitting, pushing, or throwing hard objects at his head. It quickly became obvious that Lisa's son was not going to fit the bill.
Sharply angled toys flew unbridled around the room, my son's sensitive skin sported red marks from aggressive squeezes, and the high-pitched sounds of consecutive tantrums permanently stole a range of my hearing. As I struggled to disguise my horror, I realized I had personally arranged the first of many chips at my son's innocence. Lisa was largely unconcerned that her child was a toy-stealing, WWE maniac. And having little experience with this type of social interaction, I was unsure of how much offense I was allowed to practice. By the end of our ninety-minute play date, I had long left the honeymoon phase and was thinking about divorce. She never called, and that was fine with me.
After spending time with Lisa's son, I was tempted to throw holy water and garlic at every toddler I saw. Even though I was frustrated and upset that such a simple task as finding a little friend for my son was turning into Mission Impossible, I knew that I had to keep trying. My dating days may be over, but my son has many, many more ahead of him. I reminded myself that it took time, but I did eventually find my soulmate in my husband. With a little time, a little patience, and a little less violence, I remained hopeful that we would find our playmate, too.
So, I took a deep breath and called an old acquaintance to ask if he and his daughter would like to come over to play. We didn't have much in common except for the ability to procreate, but the kids had a great time. And, really, that's all I needed.
I knew exactly the type of mom I needed. She would have an open schedule and a yearning desire for adult company, as well as be respectful and tolerant of my germ phobias. Her fashion would consist predominantly of elastic, so I wouldn't have to start wearing real clothes and sucking in my (now much bigger) stomach again. And, of course, she must have a toddler about my son's age.
I plopped my son into his stroller, and proceeded to scope out the neighborhood. Apparently, I am surrounded by a million young children who are parented by a million working mothers without the time or energy to pencil me into their already hectic schedules. A couple of them put in a sincere effort to plan a play date, but ultimately their laundry was more important. I had to broaden my search.
I met a lady at the park with a child my son's age, but her slingbacks and carefully styled hair confined her to a bench (with her cell phone), leaving me to socialize with both of our children. Another lady I met was nice enough, but the runny nose she swore was teething-related made my household sick for two weeks. Pretty soon, I was handing out my number to mothers at the toy store and the market, and even posting bulletins on the Internet. Everyone responded to my desperate attempts at friendliness with big eyes and a plastered smile, but no one ever called.
Friendless and still unable to come up with more interesting animals to live on Old McDonald's humongous farm, I decided to take a break from my playmate dating. I was standing in my driveway one afternoon, trying to entertain my son with the wonders of rock landscaping, when Lisa walked by with her toddler. Lisa was a stay-at-home mom! Lisa didn't want to come onto my driveway because her son was getting over a cold, and she didn't want to share his germs! Lisa wore exercise pants and one of her husband's T-shirts, and her hair looked dirty! She was perfect. We exchanged numbers and set a date.
As with any first date, I was nervous, but still looking forward to it with eager anticipation. I had dreams of impromptu trips to the zoo together, walking our little ones to their first day of kindergarten, and splitting the cost of a limo for their prom. Of course, I was forgetting one major detail.
My son had to enjoy the date, as well. Not only was I thrust back into the dating world, but now there was an extra person with his own set of criteria. Apparently, my child wanted a friend who would share his toys without hitting, pushing, or throwing hard objects at his head. It quickly became obvious that Lisa's son was not going to fit the bill.
Sharply angled toys flew unbridled around the room, my son's sensitive skin sported red marks from aggressive squeezes, and the high-pitched sounds of consecutive tantrums permanently stole a range of my hearing. As I struggled to disguise my horror, I realized I had personally arranged the first of many chips at my son's innocence. Lisa was largely unconcerned that her child was a toy-stealing, WWE maniac. And having little experience with this type of social interaction, I was unsure of how much offense I was allowed to practice. By the end of our ninety-minute play date, I had long left the honeymoon phase and was thinking about divorce. She never called, and that was fine with me.
After spending time with Lisa's son, I was tempted to throw holy water and garlic at every toddler I saw. Even though I was frustrated and upset that such a simple task as finding a little friend for my son was turning into Mission Impossible, I knew that I had to keep trying. My dating days may be over, but my son has many, many more ahead of him. I reminded myself that it took time, but I did eventually find my soulmate in my husband. With a little time, a little patience, and a little less violence, I remained hopeful that we would find our playmate, too.
So, I took a deep breath and called an old acquaintance to ask if he and his daughter would like to come over to play. We didn't have much in common except for the ability to procreate, but the kids had a great time. And, really, that's all I needed.
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