I figured it would serve a couple purposes. First, I'd have other moms to discuss child development theories with (i.e., "Ummm...does your kid also eat every two hours, or am I just raising a horse?") Secondly, it would be a social event -- the kids could come over to play with Mark, and I could socialize with other adults. A win-win situation, huh?
Except it hasn't worked out like that. I work all day, commute, cook, and chauffeur Mark between drum lessons, Cub Scouts and diabetes family events. Throw in daily homework, baths, and laundry, and I'm lucky to get an hour or two to myself each night. The last thing I want to do at that point is be social!
However...in the past few weeks, I've revisited my original plan. In fact, I have made some new friends, and Mark's had more kid play time as a result.
True, I did deviate a bit from my plan. I didn't actually befriend other parents. In fact, I kinda cut out the middle man and befriended some kids instead.
The kids live up the street, and are already Mark's friends. One's in his class, another's in his grade, and her sister is just a year older. They spend their weekends riding bikes, riding skateboards, and chasing each other around.
Mark and I go bike riding around the school and the neighborhood, and they've caught up with us a few times. They end up going to someone's house to play, or going down to the school to play. I usually end up tagging along with them.
It's not that I don't trust them, it's that...OK, well, I'm a paranoid nervous mom and I don't trust Mark. We live on a busy street, and my son has not yet mastered the art of looking both ways before he rides across the street. In fact, he hasn't even started learning that skill yet, and yesterday, he almost got hit by a car because of it. (The car only missed him because I kept screaming, "Stop! STOP!!" at an increasingly loud volume.)
The other parents let the kids ride bikes in front of their houses, but that's about it. So when the kids realized they could go play at school because an adult was watching them, they fully embraced me. I was jumped into the gang.
This is not to say my new friends are perfect. They are young, and as such, not very skilled in social graces. Yesterday, Destiny called me on my cell phone exactly 10 times, which I had turned off during a Cub Scouts event.
"We called you like a million times," her sister, Nicole, said accusingly, when they finally found us.
"I can see that," I answered. "We were busy. Next time, just leave a message."
"We left four," she told me, and I pointed out to Mark that's why he doesn't have a phone yet.
We rode over to the school, me and my little motley crew. I spent the whole time yelling, "Car coming!" or "Get to the side of the road."
I could tell I was really part of the gang when Nicole started confiding in me. The other kids had ridden off, and she told me the kids in her class don't like her. I felt really bad for her.
"Why don't they like you?" I asked, and she shrugged.
"I don't know," she answered. "I'm nice, and I always try to be helpful, but they just ignore me."
As I sat there feeling bad for her, the other kids rode over. Nicole jumped up and grabbed a water bottle, which she sprayed all over the kids. They rode away, yelling at her, and she chased after them, laughing an evil laugh.
I took that opportunity to advise my new friend.
"Hey Nicole," I told her. "Remember how you said you don't know why people don't like you? It's probably because you do stuff like that."
I thought we were really bonding, but she stuck her tongue out at me and skated away. So much for friendly advice.
I sat on a bench and let the kids roam the playground. (I didn't want to seem overprotective -- as long as they stayed in sight, and within the fenced in yard, I let them be.) They found a ball, and played one-touch, and pretty soon another kid they knew, Kyle, joined in. Apparently, he' been riding his bike around the school yard too.
"Ewwww, Kyle!" Nicole shouted. "I hate him!" She ran off and threw the soccer ball at his head.
They played a bit, then squabbled a bit, and I let them work it out. Eventually, they couldn't, and they started yelling a little bit louder at each other.
"Time to go home," I called, and they all collected up their bikes and helmets. They raced me to the gate, and then pedalled past me up the street.
We parted ways at the corner. They waved a last wave, and shouted out, "Bye, Mark! Bye, Heather!" and rode off. I cracked up a little -- in my day, parents were always Mr. This or Mrs. That, and were regarded with...well, not fear, but certainly as adults rather than peers.
Luckily, I'm not the most formal adult around. I called out, "Bye!" and then reminded Mark to look both ways before he crossed. And I realized I probably have another play date next weekend.
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