When I was a full time working mom about to become a stay at home mom, I dreamed about playdates. How wonderful would it be to have sweet little get togethers with my friends and let our babes play together?

I envisioned us sipping tea and having long heart to hearts about life and God and raising our children while said children practiced their social skills and used their imagination.  We’d all bond over playdates (both mamas and children that is) and we’d end up with beautiful life long friendships.

We have bonded, yes. But my rainbows and unicorns version of what a playdate looked like is FAR from reality.

Let me first say I am an introverted, Type A, Relator (StrenghsFinder), who needs Quality Time (Love Languages). Got it?  Perhaps I’m not wired properly for playdates, so take what is about to come with my personality in mind.

Also, my husband told me if I blogged about how I felt about these get togethers, I wouldn’t be invited to anymore and I’d lose all my friends.  Please say it isn’t true. Please be my friend!

OK

Playdates. A two hour playdate wipes me out for the entire day. Partly because all my friends live at least 20 minutes away from me. Most are 30 and one is 45.  I grew up where 20 minutes was the furthest you drove anywhere.  More than 30 minutes and it better be an all day thing! So because distance in a factor these playdates don’t happen too often. Which means when they do, the kids are SO EXCITED TO INTERACT WITH OTHER HUMANS!! Ok, so we don’t keep them locked up like Rapunzel or anything, most of them go to preschool, but for some reason it’s SO MUCH FUN!

And there must be running. Around the house, through the mall, in the museum. Running.  I have a child who fell and/or faceplanted every time we took a walk when she was learning to walk. The running stresses me out. I fear the injuries that may or may not happen during the running.  If they run in the mall, they run too far and might get lost. If I can’t see them, then someone will kidnap them. Surely that’s how it works. So going into stores or spending time at the museum leaves me in a tizzy constantly needing to see my child.  So when one of our babes enters the ant tunnels at the Children’s Museum. GOOD LORD!  I don’t know how I manage to hold a conversation while my child gets lost and trapped crawls around inside.

Speaking of holding a conversation…..BWAHAhahahahaha! Oh that’s funny.  There is no conversation. My mind is on the children at all times. All times. And because little people have lots of needs, they butt into our attempts at conversation almost after every sentence. So we mamas attempt to catch up and chat, but we end up telling little stories as we can get them out.  This is not the tea sipping heart to heart I dreamed about. Sometimes 10 minutes after you’ve started a story another mama will ask “So you were saying something about ________?” Yeah. I forgot.

If you host the playdate it means you’ve volunteered to have your house trashed. Why even bother to clean for them before they come? But I do. Because I’m a southern girl who knows cleanliness is next to godliness and if my house is clean I clearly have everything together in my life. (I kid. But I still clean) And because everyone rushes out of a playdate for the littlest ones who are melting down from staying out past naptime, most of the clean up duty is on you my friend. But actually, I’d rather do the cleaning, being the control freak that I am.

Playdates are great in theory, and we keep doing them because who wants to be trapped in their house with their own toys and heir own children for days on end when the temperatures don’t rise above zero anymore? And when the children can run free in a fenced in back yard again, maybe my anxiety will subside. Besides, we have developed deeper friendships, even without the rainbows and unicorns and tea. And our kids love it too.

I just wish my friends lived closer so we didn’t have to drive so far and make an entire morning out of it.  What I wouldn’t give for my friends to be my neighbors so we could pop in and out of each others homes with our kids or send our kids back and forth. That’s how it should be. And it’s what I dream of. A neighborhood of families with open homes. Community. *sigh* One day.

Until then maybe I can learn to relax a little and enjoy these playdates more.

If I’m still invited of course.