Murphy’s Law of Motherhood: When you really, desperately need human interaction that doesn’t include phrases like “Let’s change that stinky diaper!” and “Ba-baaa-ba-ba,” that is when the universe will intervene to try to prevent it.
I’ve been looking for a playgroup, or class, or SOME way to meet women. A few ladies in my congregation get together two or three times a month to have lunch at the park, which I love, but I need something more often, especially as Menininho is getting older.
Finally, after some repeated (loving) nagging on my husband’s part, I signed up for a formal group. There are dues and thrice weekly outings and mothers’ nights out and family parties and guest speakers and the whole nine yards. Last Thursday they were meeting at a local library for a Mommy and Me story time. I got all dressed up, even did my hair (!), picked out the baby’s clothes carefully (jeans & a button down), and we drove 30 minutes to the appropriate library. Naturally, the event had been canceled and no one had changed it on the group’s calendar. Lame.
Today was my 2nd chance: Mommy Mall Walk. So of course, this is the one morning in the history of our being married that my husband misplaces his keys. We spend a half hour looking around the house, which of course means I’m not browning the stew meat for tonight’s feijoada. Just as I tearily hand Mark the keys to my car so he can get to work, the keys magically appear out of the back of the diaper bag. Say it with me: Hallelujah!
Almost as awesome? I manage to brown the meat, get dressed, get the baby dressed, and packed up in enough time to stop by Starbucks. Am I the only person who feels just a little more adult/put together/confident/cool carrying a cup of Starbucks hot chocolate? Probably. But that’s ok, because this post isn’t about Starbucks, it’s about how
Ohmygosh I carried on conversations, conversations with full sentences, with a group of other women whom I had never met and who were really nice!
I’m going back on Friday.