Recently, I was at an event surrounded by moms in various stages of motherhood. When I mentioned that I was a stay-at-home mom for many years, the husband of the couple I was talking to stopped me and said, “You need to talk to my wife. She needs your tips.” And she did. She was stuck in the years of young children at preschool and naptimes in the afternoons. While I looked at her, feeling so very confident of where I am now, I simply said, “hang tight”. I used to be there. I was once in that space with two under two. I meandered through each day, doing the best I could. I was lonely, but never lost. I was fulfilled with my children but never filling myself. And, yet, I was so very happy. I was grateful and I felt like I was exactly where I wanted to be.
As we moved forward, my son started kindergarten during the pandemic. I’d wait at the door for him to come out with my mask on. I was protected with an anonymity I never chose to have. I would scoop him up and we would go home. I did not know any of the other faces or any other names aside from on little squares in kindergarten Zoom class. I was okay with it. We still had our little bubble. We had so much family time, and for that, I was grateful.
Kindergarten came to an end and first grade began. Masks and Covid were still at the forefront of conversations as we continued to navigate this new norm. When December rolled around and it was time to plan his seventh birthday party, I couldn’t imagine a scenario I felt comfortable hosting. When I looked at the forecast and saw a seventy-degree day in December, I decided we would host a party at the park for kids and parents. Most of his class showed up and most of the parents stayed. It was a beautiful couple of hours of connection. It was clear this was a shared experience that we were all desperately longing for, maybe without even being fully aware it was something we needed.
After that, I went up to school pickup and it felt like something magic had happened. I said, “Hi”. For the first time in a year and a half of school, I knew my son’s classmates and their parents. As we walked down the street, we got caught in conversation and the kids started to play. We got to know each other. Then we got on soccer teams and we spent time sitting on the sidelines and got to know each other more. The magic continued to happen.
Now, that little kindergartener is in third grade. When something comes up, I have a handful of moms I can call to see who can pick him up or who he can ride home on the bus with. They’ll catch him coming out of school or give him a ride to practice. They’ll listen to me, too. We share the hard times of parenting and the joys of parenting, too.
As I stood there listening to this couple longing for tips on how to meet your people, it struck me that I had gotten there. After years of lonely parenting I now had a pretty incredible village I was so grateful to be parenting alongside. I just want to hold that village tight because this village was not always here and getting here has not necessarily been easy. However, as it happened it was very natural and fun. When I see somebody who needs that in their life, I don’t have that magic tip or any clue or advice. My best advice is simply; you will get there. Keep investing. Keep being present and your village will appear.
When you find them, hold them tight.
