I met Sara on the playground. We were both following our toddler daughters navigate the various monkey bar equipment, bobbing and weaving through slides and swings.
At first we got along perfectly. While our children couldn’t have been more different—hers wild and adorable, mine was shy and sweet—Sara and I had a lot in common. Although on opposite ends of the business, we both had worked in the magazine industry prior to starting a family. We talked about who we knew, where former colleagues (and some enemies) had landed. She was really one of the few playground moms that I felt like I would be friends with in a non-child-revolving world, aka, regular life.
At first, her daughter, Bea, was almost too cute to take. She would repeat common phrases and clichés spoken like a little adult. She had a preference for being naked, and almost always disrobed—no matter where we were. (So confident and free!) Her shoulder-length double braids were the lightest, whitest blonde, perfectly framing her chubby face.
Then, the tantrums started. She didn’t get the cookie she wanted. She didn’t want to share. She insisted on being naked in the coffee shop. She wanted to go to the other playground. She wanted that toy (in the hands of my child.) After each of her demands weren’t met, she wailed—howled—and failed and, for lack of a better term, freaked out. Now, this is not to say that my daughter hadn’t experienced the terrible two’s equal intensity, but I had a limit. When my kid was making a scene, we left.
Sara, on the other hand, loved Bea’s outspoken, wild spirit. It took many misdeeds on Bea’s part for Sara to take action. She attempted to squelch bad behavior with a combination of mother earth talk (“Come on, take a deep breath”), empty threats (“Okay, Bea. That’s it. We’re going to have to leave if you can’t share. [Continued wailing, no exit.]), and pathetic pleas ("Bea, please do Mommy a favor and put your clothes back on.”)
[header = page 2]
It was infuriating to watch a two-year-old work her mother like she did. The pattern: Bea freaked out, cried for 10 minutes, Sara gave in and gave her what she wanted, Bea smiled a sickly manipulative smile and said, “I’m going to be good now.” Ugh.
Then I realized: I can’t blame this child. She’s only functioning in a way that she’s been told works just fine. So after all of our playdates, outings to the mall, and playground runs, my anger turned toward Sara. I’m not a strict hard-ass when it comes to parenting, but I don’t take much from my child. And it’s difficult to watch another parent create a little monster. Any benefit I had received from finding a friend to divide and conquer a SAHM day was overcast by my disgust for her parenting philosophies. Secondly, I didn't want Bea's bad behavior rubbing off on my daughter.
At first I tried to offer advice, but I even annoyed myself. Who really wants unsolicted parenting advice from another mom?
So I backed away. My schedule slowly became busier, and I faded out. My freelance work picked up, and I had less time to frolic at the playground. And that was that. We grew apart. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I see now that becoming a mother has had more of an effect on my life than I anticipated, that being a mom is hard work, and surrounding myself with like-minded parents is the only way to make it.
Comments
Maureen, that was such a
I had a similar experience,
Having a stict meal planner
I am pregnant with my first
I'm wondering how many of the
This was a good article; I
This article is nothing but
i had basically the same
Well this is very interesting
I had a good friend with a
Post new comment