Not long after V was born, I met a group of nine other women all of whom – as well as myself – gave birth to their first child in December of 2003. We began by emailing one another and then transitioned in to having play dates.

Play dates. Quite honestly, I was excited to meet up with other first time mothers for quite a few reasons – the biggest of which was adult conversation. The mere thought of an afternoon spent comparing notes on the quantity, consistency and color of my son’s spit up was about as appealing to me as undergoing another emergency c-section. At least with the c-section I had drugs to help numb the pain. 

I gave three solid attempts at the play group thing. I failed miserably at all three and actually found myself questioning my ability to meet new friends at my ripe old age. For about a year and a half, I felt guilty – like I was somehow less of a mom – because of my inability to enjoy the play group experience. I’m over it now.

This past weekend was a big step for me. The mother of V’s best friend at pre-school approached me to ask if we would be interested in meeting them at the Railroad Museum over the weekend. Hesitantly, I agreed. Would I fail again? Would we have anything in common, other than our children? Would we be able to carry on an adult conversation?

I’m happy to report that I survived the day and actually enjoyed it! I met a fun-loving, easy-going woman who doesn’t take herself too seriously. Even though there’s nearly 15 years difference between us, we managed to enjoy a nice afternoon with our boys – and even had some adult conversation.

Yes, we’re growing up, V and I. Ahhhh

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