Sticks and Stones

Originally written 5 Sep 2011

Girls can be mean. Just ask anyone who has survived junior high, or high school for that matter.

Or ask a pregnant woman or first time mom.

The playgrounds are no less terrifying for a new (or battle hardened) parent than for their munchkins. At least with the littler set, I can understand. I mean, that is a pretty cool toy you have there, of course you would both want to play with it at the same time. And yes, I did see him push you first, of course you would want to push him back. Not to mention that no one likes being assaulted with a toy or having someone steal your goldfish crackers (a capital offense, if ever there was one).

But the cruelties of parents to one another is more subtle, and more undermining, in many ways. It is the way that someone can compare her child to yours without actually making an overt criticism. It is the way a supposed friend can always one-up you when you are having a bad day (or a good day for that matter). Or the way a strongly opinionated soapbox can render your parenting choices as selfish and immature, or how unsolicited advice can come across as judgmental.

Unless the person really is putting herself or her children in immediate harm’s way, chances are, she already knows that it’s time to lose the diaper and the paci, and that a lunch of goldfish and chocolate milk is not the most nutritious choice. She probably wishes her child would behave in restaurants as much as you do, and she probably hopes that some day her child will sleep past dawn. I doubt that she enjoys answering her child’s endless questions, or stepping in as referee every other minute because her child is going through a year-long “hitting phase.” And most of all, she probably wishes you would understand well enough to offer her an ear, or at least a stiff drink.

Because a support network of good friends who have blazed this trail before or alongside of you is also uplifting and necessary. No pediatrician or hand book is as personalized and meaningful as asking your friends if your child really should be screeching at the top of her lungs, or whether she will ever calm down long enough to get dressed or eat a meal at the table, or whether you can really survive potty-training while keeping your sanity. Friends are good for the practical advice that never make it into books or manuals, and when all else fails, friends are great company for a bottle of wine or something stronger.

I have been blessed to have wonderful friends who keep me sane (and some of those other “friends,” too, who keep me on my toes). Much like a good pair of jeans that hide the mummy-tummy, or a fabulous purse that can hold everything without looking like a diaper bag, or a fantastic pair of shoes that allow you to chase your toddler down the street and still look stylish, another mommy-must-have is a great group of girlfriends. ‘Cause although we love them to death, but men are just not hairy women, as a local newspaper rightly pointed out, years ago.

We’re all treading water here, even if some of us appear better at it than others.