I always knew my life would change after giving birth to my daughter. I was totally prepared to lose sleep, money and any sense of privacy, but I had no idea that I would lose most of my friends too. Unfortunately, the birth of my baby has also meant the death of my once thriving social life.
As a carefree single girl, my phone rang constantly with invitations to happy hours and bottomless brunches. I was happily unfamiliar with the funniest sketches on Saturday Night Live because I was always out somewhere, well into my second round. But since I’ve joined the mommy club, most of my drunken companions have kicked me to the curb. A couple of my tried and true pals have remained faithful, occasionally passing through my apartment on their way to something more exciting. However, most aren’t interested in talking about dirty diapers or breastfeeding, and they wouldn’t be caught dead walking down the street with a stroller – even if someone else was pushing it.
But rather than dwell on what I’d lost, I decided to find a group of mommy friends to fill the void left by my single gal pals. I thought it would be easy to do in Brooklyn, the place where hip city girls go to die. Mommy and Me everything is abundant in my neighborhood. So I eagerly signed up for yoga classes, hoping to engage in some adult conversation and allow my daughter to spend time with other kids her age.
I was disappointed to find that I didn’t fit in with the stay at home mom crowd any better than I did on the single scene. My daughter was oblivious to how uncomfortable I felt during her play dates, when the conversation turned to summer homes, nanny shares or some other topic that caused me to nod and force a dim-witted smile until someone changed the subject. These moms were housewives by choice, eagerly accepting the responsibility of keeping spotless homes and warm cookies on the table as if it were their birthright. I was awkwardly forced into my role due to downsizing and could barely afford the weekly bus trips to the yoga studio. I needed to find a place where I could talk about my sore nipples or the hair that was suddenly appearing in strange places.
Though I haven’t yet found a group of fabulous new mommy friends, I refuse to give up hope. I keep an eye out at the bookstore, the playground and even the pediatrician’s office for someone who can talk about their favorite Real Housewives cast and the best preschools in the neighborhood. Hopefully we’ll be able to enjoy ourselves on the playground and at $4 margarita night at the local watering hole. Being a mom means learning to be flexible. Besides, Saturday Night Live is really funny!