August 18, 2020
I blew it. I had a chance at love, and well, like the wind- it’s gone. I thought, more than once, about getting her number, but my fear of looking like a lonely idiot persuaded me to let, yet another potentially perfect opportunity slip away.
A mom-friend. Not just any mom friend, but a mom of four, with two school aged children, and two children she stays at home with. THE PERFECT MOM FRIEND. She was kind, incredibly creative, totally relaxed, and better yet- not too judgy when Aurora went face forward- resulting in a tumbling exit to a slide that was probably a little too big for her to be adventuring on.
This morning, in a spur of the moment decision, I decided to take Baerett and Aurora across town to a park that our older boys really enjoy, and well, that also happens to be next to a library, which was truly the mornings plan. Rather than stick around the house and dream up another list of things to be cleaned, I figured we could switch things up a bit. Arriving at the park, Baerett was a little apprehensive to explore, seeing as the majority of the equipment was wet from the previous night’s rain, and well, he’d never been here without the company of Maverick and Ace.
Slowly, as the two hour park trip progressed, Baer gathered up the courage to share snacks, play hide-and-seek, and even go on a small bug hunt with his new pal. My could-have-been perfect mom friend and I shared small talk, and, while I find most new conversation to be difficult and kind of awkward, ours kind of flowed. We quickly established that we had children the same ages, and if this was a sit-com, some sort of light and Jesus hallelujah chime would have been cued.
The coronavirus has caused the majority of public bathrooms to still be closed, so, even though I was basically on my first mom-date, I was, after two hours, summoned by my bladder to leave. And, so, just like that, we both went our separate ways, most likely to never see each other again.
While driving home, much like I would have in college, if I saw a cute boy at a bar, I thought about showing up at the same park again. You know, in case destiny could once again align the stars for us to meet. This time, though, I’d be sure to have the courage to share more than goldfish and peanut butter crackers. This time, I’d ask for her number, probably blaming the next intentional gathering on having our youngest kids become friends. I’d also have to line up some topics to discuss, something much more interesting than ideas of park games that two three year olds could play together.
I’ve been told, and well, it’s likely very true, that if you do not find mom friends, especially during your stay-at-home years, then you’ll never make it. Or at least, you’ll be incredibly lonely. I love the idea of someone to share park dates, or even team up with kids, so that we could each get a few hours away once and awhile. But mostly, I’d love to have someone to laugh with, as we exchange stories of all of the things our kids did, and how we don’t even know how we are managing to wash so many loads of laundry on a weekly basis. Someone to normalize this crazy parenting adventure.
There is no way, that somewhere out there, probably somewhere out there- right here in Lincoln, there is a mom who is thinking about this very same thing. Someone else who has great friends, but they either do not have children, or work during the day, or maybe even both. Someone else is really wishing there was some sort of swipe-right option that provided park companionship rather than a romantic one.
And, if so, where the hell was she, and how do I find her? Yes, I get it. This morning, she was literally right in front of me. Opportunity, and the knowledge of my need to seize the moment; take things into my own hands, and yet- the chance is now just a memory. Or well, hopefully, just a lesson. A lesson to hunt this lady down and demand her friendship, or ya know, sticking with something that won’t land me in jail, using this lost friendship as a way to throw me straight out of my comfort zone, should another opportunity like this arise in the future.
If this were a Hallmark movie, our paths would meet again, and not only would we be friends, but Baerett and her three-year old daughter would run off to the sun set after their perfect high school romance, one day hoping to build their own family of six. Yes, I realize that thought is a little crazy, slightly dramatic, but also, a really great plot line for a Vanessa Lachey film. So, ya know, here’s to hoping.
Three Princes and a Sweet Pea 