There is a secret society of the world of mothering. It is called the playgroup. These groups are exclusive- usually open by invitation only- and guarded- what happens at playgroup, stays at playgroup. Those on the outside hear mention of the enigmatic playgroup and immediately their heads begin to spin with questions. Well, friends, question no longer!
To quench your curiosity, here’s an inside glimpse….
My playgroup (which has lovingly been nicknamed ‘The Real Housewives of Ballston Spa’) consists of four youthful moms, all with children ages 4 and under. We are all college educated women who have abandoned or postponed professional careers in order to raise our children. We are all members of the same church, which you could consider the glue that holds us together. Other than that, we’re all very different people with a wide variety of interests and talents.
Now allow me to illustrate the perfect picture of what happens at playgroup.
Everyone arrives precisely on time. And by that I mean that everyone shows up late, which is precisely when it is expected that they will arrive. Our physical appearance is a dichotomy as sometimes we’ve dressed to impress and others we’ve thrown on sweatpants and the nearest t-shirt. We’re all exhausted because we’re all sleep-deprived. Each mom usually has to take three trips to her car to bring inside her kids and bags filled with diapers, changes of clothes, snacks, and wayward items that were left behind by other moms at the previous gathering. The kids set straight to work, turning the house up-side-down in a matter of minutes, upending every toy bin until the rooms look like a virtual war zone. The moms begin to converse, usually starting with a quick catch up on what has been happening since the last meeting. But the conversations inevitably turn to childrearing. Popular subjects are changes in our children’s nap habits, appetites, and yes, even bowel movement frequency. We swap stories of our most frustrating challenges and of our most endearing moments. Every once in a while we’ll tackle the really controversial matters like bottle v. breast or discipline techniques. But regardless of the subject, there has never been a conversation in playgroup history in which one or more moms hasn’t had to leave mid-sentence to deal with an unruly child. Intervening in a lack-of -sharing or failure-to-take-turns struggle is most common. Then there’s also the occasional stray hit, kick, tackle, or shouting match that must stopped. At yesterday's playgroup it was Jamie who threw a metal aiplane at his sister's face and he had to be removed from the room. Then, just when we think that we’ve resolved the conflicts, someone has to leave the room to remedy a poopy diaper or scurry a potty dancing/ groin clutching child off for a bathroom break. If we’re feeling particularly ambitious we might attempt to lead a craft project. The older kids usually follow along well but, more often than not, we moms end up sitting around a table lacing Fruit Loops onto strings of yarn while the kids run off to play in another room. Lunch time is a flurry of preparation- cutting everything into tiny tot sized bites, distributing portions and filling sippy cups. If we’re lucky, this will afford us a few precious moments of silence while the kids eat and for a moment we can pretend that we’re just four friends sitting around having a peaceful lunch together. But reality inevitably strikes. I'll never forget the time when we moms got so lost in conversation that we didn't notice one of the little boys smearing his spaghetti noodles all over the wall while the girls encouraged him with their laughs and giggles. In the end someone’s child shows the first signs of meltdown. We all begin to pack up, praying that all the excitement will lead to our children taking three hour long power naps when we get home (which very rarely comes to fruition). And whoever had the displeasure of hosting playgroup at their house is left with the tumultuous aftermath clean-up.
Now you’re probably thinking that you’d rather stand in line at the DMV than attend playgroup. Sometimes I think so too. When I get home I’m thoroughly exhausted. Getting together is much more like work than it is leisure. And yet, I love it. I keep going back for more because, at the end of the day, it’s nice to feel understood. It’s comforting to know that I’m not the only one whose life revolves around chaos and mayhem.
Well said!
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