Why Young Mothers Need Friends Who Are Not Young Mothers

Young mothers are some of the most difficult friends to have. They’re impossible to make plans with because their schedules are so unpredictable. They almost always show up late and when they do their excuses usually revolve around diapers. They have to be home by 2 for naptime and can’t stay out later than 7 for risk of ruining bedtime. They’re scatter-brained. They’re likely to erupt into emotional outbursts because either their hormones are out of whack from pregnancy, post-partum, or breastfeeding or else due to severe sleep deprivation. They can rarely carry a conversation without interjecting a story about their kids. They make frequent stops for potty breaks, tantrums, and stroller malfunctions. And when they suggest meeting for dinner they are much more likely to mean chicken nuggets with apple slices at home than chicken cordon bleu at the popular new restaurant in town.

I am guilty of all of the above, to the third power. As an offender, let me be the first to say this: being friends with a young mother is annoying! But just because I am an annoying young mother does not mean that I should only deserve to be friends with equally as annoying young mothers. Don’t get me wrong- those of my friends who are raising young children are dear to my heart and I don’t think I would be able to survive the tumultuous journey of motherhood without them. It’s always nice to talk with someone with whom you can relate, who is living a similar stage of life as you, who can understand your victories and your plights. But at the same time, it’s also important to have friends who are the complete opposite of that.

Lately I have been spending a lot of time with Joy and Emmeline. These lovely ladies are a mother & daughter duo who live in my neighborhood and whom I first met at church. Since around the time James left last fall we have been getting to know each other better. (I’m not sure if this timing was sheer happenstance or because they took pity on the lonely, single mom of three who they could see was in desperate need of help. Either way, I praise the Lord!)

Joy is smart and sweet, has a witty sense of humor, and she makes the most delicious chicken & rice dish I’ve ever eaten. She was once a librarian and a Navy wife but now that her husband is out of the service she is a stay-at-home mom and home school teacher to her thirteen year old daughter, Emmeline.

Emmy is just as smart and sweet as her mom, but with some sassy thrown in between. She is a fun yet mature young woman with a natural talent for child care and a mile long list of quirks that makes her especially loveable.

Our get-togethers usually revolve around food (I think we’ve exhausted the menus at all the local establishments in our town and are about to move on to the outlying communities) but we mostly just like to talk. I have giggled more with Joy and Emmeline in the last six months than I did as a school girl at all the sleepovers I ever attended. We have so much fun! Whenever we get together we talk a lot about books and movies and our beloved pets, shopping and traveling, and romance and relationships…and the list could go on and on. There is no telling where or when our gabbing will end, as I almost always lose track of time when I'm lost in conversation with Joy and Emmeline.

I am not exaggerating when I tell you that, after all is said and done, these two women will have been the primary reason why I survived this deployment with my sanity intact. Being with Joy and Emmeline is refreshing. When I am with them I feel like more than just “Mommy.” I am independent and strong; I am intelligent and unique. Young mothers need friends who are not young mothers because we easily forget that we are more than just young mothers. Between all the diaper changes and runny noses and playtimes and bedtime stories, we lose track of ourselves and we begin to let that one characteristic of “mother” define us. So if you are raising young children, I urge you to find a Joy or an Emmeline or both to remind you that you are more. After all, even we annoying young moms deserve to discuss literature and giggle like school girls from time to time.

Superwoman. That's me.

Traveling. Mothering. Moving. Each one is a challenge in and of itself. So what do you get when you combine all three of them at one time? You guessed it….You get a very busy me.

When I originally planned our two week trip to Virginia I thought it would be a nice opportunity to escape from my stressful obligations in New York and enjoy some quality time with friends and family. That was the plan. But life has a habit of taking my plans and turning them into a jigsaw puzzle- cutting them into tiny, almost unrecognizable pieces, throwing them into a cardboard box and giving them a vigorous shake, then dumping them out onto the table and saying “have fun trying to make sense of it now!”

Three weeks ago I called a property manager to discuss options about our house. (For those of you who don’t know, we have been unsuccessful in selling our house because we owe more than its current worth. Curse you, housing market!) We came to the agreement that since the economy is not conducive to selling, that renting would be our best option. A few days after our initial meeting, we had our first showing to a couple interested in renting. That same afternoon I got a call from another prospective renter. Two days later we had a second showing from a different couple. And in that same week I entertained my sister who was visiting from California and I packed our bags for a two week vacation.

The day after we left on our road trip I was contacted by the property manager, who wanted to show the house to another prospective renter. I had gone to a lot of work to leave the house in showable condition for this very purpose and if nothing else about this post impresses you, that simple feat should. The next day I received word that this person was sitting down with our property manager to look over a lease agreement and the day after that I was given the “go ahead” to find a new house in Virginia. I immediately started searching online and making dozens of calls, trying to find a new place to live. And in that same week I visited with my three sisters, my niece and nephew, kept my three kids out of trouble, went shopping and swimming, attended a massive playgroup, and went on two sightseeing trips.

The next week I began avidly searching for a new home in the Norfolk area. I went to see a house and a town home for rent in Newport News but both of them were in dangerously scary neighborhoods. I made more calls and did more online searches than I could count. The next day I went to two more houses and I finally found one I wanted to live in. So I began the application process and even had to ask a friend in New York to find my hidden key, go into the house, tear through the cupboards in search of important documents and fax them to the rental agency. The next day our application was approved and I drove to the bank for a cashier’s check to make a deposit to reserve our new home. And in that same week I caught up with some old friends who I haven’t seen in years, played with 8 little kids, went to the beach, and then visited my in-laws and drove 10 hours back home.

I often have people say to me, “Jennifer, I don’t know how you do it all.” The prideful side of me wants to dramatically rip open my button-front blouse and thrust out my chest to expose the large “S” emblem of my Superwoman suit. But my more humble side usually replies something along the lines of, “I do what I have to do.” However, I want to give credit where credit is due. None of this would be possible without the Lord Almighty watching over me every step of the way and giving me patience, guidance, and strength. I also rely on an amazing network of family and friends who helped me in an array of capacities- from pet sitting while I was away to caring for my kids when my focus was elsewhere to sorting through my mess in search of an important piece of paper. Thank you all! Superwoman would be no one without the help of her loyal sidekicks.

That's me, dressed up as Supermom for Halloween '09

R.I.P. Sylvie

I don’t usually get mad at my kids. I am often frustrated with their actions or disappointed in their decisions. They make me feel sad on many occasions for a variety of reasons. But very rarely am I truly angry at them. This afternoon, however, I was fuming. And I think I had good reason, because it’s not every day that your child threatens the life of a beloved family pet.

Johnny playing with Sylvie, the goldfish, a few weeks ago

Around this time last year we bought two goldfish. Josie named them “Josie” and “Sylvie,” after herself and her best friend. They’re beautiful pets and by far the lowest maintenance members of the entire household. Josie and Sylvie (the fish, not the kids) spent the last two weeks at a friend’s house while we were in Virginia and this afternoon we picked them up from their fish sitters. In order to move the heavy 25 gallon tank the water has to be drained to about ¼ full, so as soon as we got them home I felt the need to expediently re-fill the tank to relieve the stress of our dear goldfish. I left the tank on its stand in the living room under the supervision of Josie, Jamie, and Johnny while I went into the kitchen to fill a bucket with fresh water. As the water filled the bucket I scrubbed the algae off the two plastic plants and sunken ship décor so that our fish would be welcomed home to a nice, clean environment. A few minutes later, once my bucket had filled, I carried it back into the living room and began to pour the contents into the tank. Jamie was hunched over the tank, watching attentively as the water flowed from bucket to tank. My eyes scanned the bottom of the tank and almost instinctively I knew that something was wrong. There was only one fish!

Where was the other? My gaze darted from place to place, frantically searching all the nearby surfaces hoping to catch a glimpse of bright orange. There. Lifelessly stranded in a small compartment of the dry filter. Jamie had scooped the fish out of the tank and dropped her into the filter. I plopped her fragile little body back into the water as quickly as I could but it sunk to the bottom and rested motionlessly on the rocks.

Red hot anger grew up inside of me. I shouted at Jamie in my most ferocious voice and sent him to his time-out chair. His tears gushed at the severity of my reaction. It all happened so fast that I’m not sure exactly what I said, but I’m pretty sure an explicative escaped from my lips. It took all my will power to resist the urge to throw something against the wall. Jamie stayed in his chair until dinner, more out of my need to calm down than his need for punishment.

Oh Jamie, Jamie, Jamie. This little man is continually finding new ways to push my patience to the brink. Just when I think we might be turning a corner, leaving these terrible twos behind us, he attempts things that only happen in my wildest dreams. I swear, this kid is going to be the death of me…..which is probably the exact thought that dashed through poor Sylvie’s mind as her gills gulped desperately for water in those final moments.

Rest in peace, dear Sylvie. You will be missed.