Mommy Dating

By Allison H.

In the spring when L was 15 months old, we to the Pioneer Valley. Knowing nobody, I began my adventures in mommy-dating. I hated mommy-dating but it had to be done. Without a job to go to, I had no other way of meeting new people. If you’ve never had to mommy-date, consider yourself lucky. 

Mommy-dating is just like real-dating, except the scene unfolds at the playground, (or supermarket, library, museum etc,) instead of a bar. I paid a little more attention to my own appearance, and L’s, making sure we were both at least mostly clean. I’d scan the park for “attractive” moms. What makes a potential mom-friend attractive? Her kid needs to be approximately the same age as L. No matter how cool a mom of a 6 month old seems, there’s no way she’d want a playdate with my wild toddler. She needs to look kind of like me – I’m not going to be bffs with a fancy mom. So, with my sights set on new mom friends, I hit the “singles” scene.

Just like real-dating, I had to put myself out there: I made eye contact; I was approachable; I was friendly; I visited the same places again and again, so I could see the same moms again and again; I made idle conversation with everyone; I introduced myself; I asked for phone numbers. All of this sucked. All of this was entirely against my inherent unfriendly nature. And, worse, I had an unreliable wing-man. L could be entirely disarming, or he could throw sand in your kid’s eyes.

In many ways, I think real-dating is less awkward than mom-dating. With real-dating, the whole pick-up process is sort of expected and normal. Between moms at the playground, it’s odd. It’s weird to go from chatting idly about the kids in the sandbox to, “So, maybe I can get your number so we can do this again sometime…” It’s truly awful. I’d come home from the park depressed because there was a really cool mom and I just didn’t pluck up the courage to get her number, and she didn’t ask for mine. I’d go weeks hoping to run into her again.

My first summer here I met a lot of moms and was able to set up a second date with a number of them. The second date is where you see if there is any chemistry. I found that these other moms mostly fell in one of two camps: those who thought I was funny, and those who thought I was horrible. I had a lot of very uncomfortable second dates! I never really did the whole real-dating thing, so I was unsure how to navigate these second dates. At what point in a potential new relationship, do you show your real self? Not the charming one who picked-up this mom, but the real one who dreads going into public places with her then 17-month-old? The one whose first thought upon her son’s waking up is, “damn”? How do you release your real personality? All at once? Or slowly, over time?

I decided to ease it out. I’d start with something light and benign to gauge my audience. I’d do something like call my son a “maniac.” For most people, this would go by unnoticed. There were a few moms, however, who immediately sought to correct me and explain that my son was developmentally appropriate blah blah blah. These moms were entirely too precious for me, and some excuse would be made for the playdate to end.

Next, I’d try something a little more colorful. I’d tell the story about how my son swears fairly regularly. (History of Speech) This would either be met with laughter and an equally charming story (the desired response), or shock and “Oh no! What did you do??” The latter set were dismissed.

Through my process of picking-up, follow-up dating, and personality slow release, I have been able to build a new circle of friends. My mom friends. These are women whose children drive them crazy. These are women whose children have been known to bite, scream, disrupt etc. These are women who know L and can appreciate all of his charms despite all of his foibles. Without these women I’d still be in the lonely trenches as a “single mom.”

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