From Mumship to Friendship
I have never found it hard to make friends. At least not in the same way that some do. Having grown up in a military life, I was thrown into a new playground each and every year and told to make friends quick, knowing full well it was pointless because I would be leaving again in six months time anyway.
My mother quickly taught me to ‘be a swan‘… In other words, panic like hell underneath but be graceful on top. So following her (ludicrous) advice, each day I would breeze into the school playground with my hands clasped firmly together and pray to god no one could spot the nerves that were making my hands shake and sweat. The older I got the more skilled I became at hiding my nerves; but they were still there. Lurking in the background. Tying my stomach up in knots and threatening to chuck bile all over the school playground.
Despite my fear, it seems no one noticed. Most people who knew me as a kid remark even now as to how confident I was and how easily I made friends. I remember a totally different childhood.
When I finally left school, the one thing I was most grateful for was the thought that never again would I have to walk into a silent classroom with questioning eyes peering at the new stranger. Never again would I have to grip my hands between my knees to stop them from shaking. Oh how wrong I was.
You see, when I thought about growing up and moving on, I neglected to take into consideration the fact that one day I would have children of my own. And with children come play dates. And with play dates come… mums!
Holy Crap. You mums scare me more than any headmaster or RAF Officer ever did. You stand in a gaggle at the school gates, pretending to look busy on your phones while you chat about the very busy day you have had. You compare notes on the prices of your cars, or the next expensive holiday you have booked. You literally paralyze me with fear, and all of a sudden I am that scared little girl in the playground again.
Only this time, because I am older, I know somewhere deep down that I don’t have to be friends with you all. It took me a while to understand that, but now I think I get it!
You see, just like when I took the “don’t give a f**k” pill – something changed in me recently.
When I first met new mums, it was as terrifying for me as chatting to a guy for the first time. First you have to suss out the type of person they are, sporty, flirty, sassy, obnoxious. Then you have to figure out their sense of humour, and decide if you can play along with that. After 20 minutes of inane chatter, you then have to decide if you want to take this new ‘mumship’ to the next level. I don’t call it friendship at this point because let’s be real here, we are not friends yet. We are mums who happen to possibly bond over the fact that we have both given birth. So far that is all we have in common. So you are a ‘mumship’.
If you decide to take things to the next level and you want to see if this mumship can develop into an acquaintance, you have to swap digits – which is almost as awkward as swapping digits with the guy you just met in the coffee shop.
‘Did she say her name was Jane? Or Jenny? Shit. Ok. Just hand her the phone and ask her to type her own number in.’
This might make you look stupid, but at least then you don’t have to ask her name all over again and look ignorant. I’ll take stupid over ignorant any day!
Then there is the question of what to do on your ‘mum-date‘. If you are pretty sure this is just going to be a mumship, then a play date at the park or beach is probably best. If you get a feeling that maybe this could be more, you could float the idea of coffee. This is where you have to be uber careful. Me… I generally say “coffee… or even a glass of wine sometime”. If you detect a wince of pain after the word wine, you know she is a mumship and not a friendship. If you can’t share a glass of wine with a woman, then in my opinion it is best to stay neutral. If she jumps at the chance of ten minutes away from her brood to bitch over a glass of wine then you may be in for a friendship.
Jesus – it’s just so complicated!
Then you get home. You look at your phone. ‘Is it too early to text her? Do we do coffee first then work up to wine? Did she say she would text or did you say you would? What is the standard wait time for a mummy friend phone call?’
The first ‘date’ all depends on your expectations.
KISS – and no I don’t mean KISS the woman. I mean Keep It Simple Stupid. This is the same principle I worked with when I was dating. Keep the topics general and simple. Don’t get too deep too quick. At this stage you have no idea if she is the city gossip, or the town ‘bike’.
It is not until you get home after the first date that you can ask yourself… ‘would we be friends if we didn’t have kids?’. I don’t mean, would we have met if we didn’t have kids, because the answer to that is almost always no. But would you be friends? If the answer is no… then maybe think about how much time you will invest in the mumship – because time is precious when you have to fit in school runs, play dates and dance lessons.
Mummy friends are seriously hard to come by. All mums parent differently, have different values and morals and you will not always get along but it doesn’t mean that these mums can’t be mummy friends. You can have mumships with these women and keep them at a safe distance. But mummy friends… they are different. A rare breed and almost as hard to find as your knight in shining armour. Once you find a mummy friend that you know you can depend on, share a glass of wine with, bitch, laugh and cry with… that is the one you keep. Just like that day in the playground when all of a sudden you think you have found your best friend for life, or your first proper boyfriend.
It’s the same with mummy friends. So don’t panic. It happens to us all. Making mummy friends can be as hard as taking the first step on the dating scene or walking into a crowded play ground for the first time, but once you find the rare few that you can rely on, the ones that will stick by you come rain, shine or stinky pants, you know you are blessed. Whether or not you decide to ‘change schools’ or move away – these women are destined to stick around for more than six months.
