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When I was pregnant, I would go to toy stores often to search for those handfuls of items worthy of a place in the nursery.  During these excursions, I began to examine the mother’s w/their children in light of the pending arrival of my own.  So often, they were frazzled.  Dragging kids out of the store kicking and screaming, sternly telling a child to put a toy back, negotiating deals to avoid tantrums.  We’re a certain kind of people - the mothers of young children.

It looks like almost all of us have dark circles under our eyes and exhaustion in our backs.  Most of us need a make over.  It’s remarkable, and especially in terms of appearance, there’s usually this lack of make-up or presentation that is entirely lovely in a simple almost austere or modest way.  Maybe it’s because we spend so much of our time in the company of women and children, but there is this childlike return to play clothes, sneakers, and pony tails.

The part I dislike in myself is the speed of my thoughts.  Living with a 2 ½ year old, my thoughts are driven in the second to second range.  Completion of my thoughts is rare, and I guard my quiet time where I can relish a wholly formulated thought.  I try and constantly write, I must always be writing or else I couldn’t see my circumstances clearly, so subjective and close up is this minute to minute existence.

The group of women that I’ve become close friends with grows by bounds every month.  I’m not by nature a social person, but it’s with these women that I think I’ve found something close to a childhood friendship – maybe even comparable to the dear friend you had when you were 13 and figuring out how to put make-up on.  The intimacy of that relationship cannot be underestimated, and on some levels, we’re all learning to become wives and mothers together.

Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever had this many close friends.  The other day, I organized a play date at the FABULOUS local ice cream store, and we took over the whole place.  I stood back for a moment looking at us all with the kids raising holy hell and the mothers chatting each other up about the world at large, and I was so thrilled because we’re in the same boat and for the most part trying to keep each other afloat.  It’s a powerful thing, and I don’t think I could do it without them.

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