Me Too

So I joined this Mothers Of Preschoolers group. On accounta I am one, and misery loves company I had heard some great things about it. Also, one of my newest favorite people said I could sit at her table. 

Anyway, today's topic was about getting connected with other moms. Sometimes it's not easy. You may find someone you totally adore, but your kid - who is normally a mellow, sweet love bug - always ends up punching her kid in the throat.  Now your new friend won't even answer your calls.  Or your kid begs and begs and begs you to call her favorite friend for a play date, but that kid's mom smells like patchouli, which would be totally cool if it didn't give you a migraine.

I've digressed.  So part of today's discussion was taking risks and sharing personal things about yourself a little at a time, until you meet someone that says Me Too. Then you know you've found a lady you can connect with.  I am all sorts of ready to share and make some new lady friends, but I may need to use a filter.  The discussion went a little like this:

Starter Question: Would you ever invite someone to your house, last minute, if you knew your house was dirty?

No, no, no.  We mostly agreed. Unless you know the person really well.  At this point I think that everyone and I are on the same page with what "Really Well" means and this is - that they've been over once when the house was clean (so they know I am capable of cleaning it) and are willing to accept a blanket "I'm sorry if you stick to anything" sort of apology from there on out.

Lady #1: My husband is really helpful with keeping things up. If things are getting out of control he'll get the rag and polish out and do some dusting.

(Some other ladies were nodding.)

Me: Uhm. Dusting? I've purchased one can of Pledge since we moved to Florida two years ago.

Rest of the table:  cricket noises, blank stares

Me: Really? No one's gonna "Me Too" to that?

Rest of the table: shaking their heads "no" and interjecting things like "oh no, I'm a freak about cleaning."

I almost got up and requested a new table, but then I overheard someone say "My daughter is only 4 and her sass has me terrified of the teenage years."  I sat back down because I had some things to add to this conversation. In fact, I had a lot to add.  I didn't even get to the part about the Taz, the fruit of my very loins, calling me Stepmother.

Anyway, I like this group of ladies and it's a safe place to share, network, commiserate, celebrate and eat. (These women really know how to put on a spread.)  But I do think it will be a while before I share things like "This morning I found two peanut butter M&M's in Maggie's car seat that didn't have hair on them, so I ate them."   That kind of information is best left to sharing with all 28 of you.