The Road Taken

Even though a part of me believes, the universe will send you where you are meant to be, I strive to teach my children and students the importance of good choices and exercising your free will. In my life, I can certainly identify choices  that have "made all the difference." Shortly after graduating college, two schools in the Philadelphia suburbs offered me the opportunity to interview for teaching positions. I conveniently scheduled them for the same day. The first position was a long term sub in Delaware County. I felt I had a great interview, and the principal informed me the long term position would most likely lead to a contracted position the following year. I left the interview feeling elated knowing the job was mine, and pulled out the directions for my next interview. When I reached the junction of 476  near Plymouth Meeting, I got turned around and ended up on the Northeast Extension. I panicked knowing I had gone the wrong way. I knew by the time I turned around at the Lansdale exit and drove back to King of Prussia, I was going to be late for my job interview which is probably the worst first impression to make as a teacher whose life is dictated by the ringing of bells. I seriously contemplated just bagging the interview since I felt  confident I was getting a job offer. Nevertheless, I turned around at Lansdale, sped back down the Northeast Extension, and arrived at Upper Merion High School breathless and seven minutes late. Fortunately, they were running late too. I began my interview by relating the story of my awful sense of direction and two weeks later accepted a full time position at Upper Merion. I like to think the universe pushed in the right direction that day, since that one decision has led to some of my greatest blessings in life. Eight years after accepting that job, I made the choice to leave my position to stay home with my boys. Probably many would consider that a foolish mistake especially if they saw Upper Merion's pay scale. But I don't regret for one moment the the years I spent with my boys, and the universe nudged me once again last year in a new direction, and while the pay scale isn't quite as impressive, I couldn't ask for better students or coworkers who make me laugh, sometimes uncontrollably, each day.

But for this post, I wanted to take the time to reflect on a decision I made six years ago. Being a stay at home parent can be one of the most tedious and monotonous jobs replete with dirty diapers, vomiting, endless crying peppered with soul crushing moments of beauty. When my oldest son was nearing eighteen months, I decided we both needed a little more socialization. While it felt a bit contrived, I decided to try out a MOMs Group. I began to do a little research to see what groups were in my area. Who knew these clubs had "boundaries" and other rules? I discovered I lived within the "boundaries" of the MOMS Club of Collegeville and attended one of their monthly meetings. The women seemed friendly enough, so I filled out a waiver, wrote a check for $25, and hoped to make a friend or two. I requested to be put in a playgroup. Since most groups were either full or too old for my eighteen month old, I was told I would probably have to form a new group. I was given the name and email of another new member with an eighteen month old who lived in my townhouse development--our backyards less than 500 yards from one another; although, our paths had never crossed. We set up a time to meet at the playground in our development, and I remember feeling so nervous. It was like going on a first date. I tried my best to be funny and witty and keep Nate's finger out of his nose. After our first playdate, we decided each other was normal enough or maybe dysfunctional in the same way, and set up another time to get together. A few weeks later, another member of the club decided to join us and six months later our foursome was complete. For nearly four years, we met up once a week to play at each other's homes and that day was often the highlight of my week. We commiserated over the joys and trials of our calling, jokingly complained about our wonderful husbands who indulged the financial folly of our chosen vocation, and bonded over our shared love of coffee, raunchy TV, and most importantly our children.

Whenever we were approached about adding another mom to our group, we always deferred saying our group was full since three of the four of us lived in townhouses and our combined eight children were a force of destruction ransacking our respective homes until every toy was strewn across the floor. I think we all felt protective of our bond and worried the comfortable ease of our group might be disturbed.

Along with our weekly play dates, we often met up at the playground, Dunkin Donuts, Chik Fil A, and other child friendly places so our children could play, and we could chat. We planned Valentine'sparties for our little ones, setup a Christmas exchange, and celebrated all our kids' birthdays. One of my fondest memories from our playgroup days include the summer we planned a Summer Camp for our kids. During our four weeks of camp, each of us planned crafts, activities and a field trip which kept our kids busy and gave us a little break from being a mom for the morning. We also looked forward to our monthly "MOMs Night Out" where we could really relax without our children. I still smile when I think of one particular MNO when I arrived home to my husband sitting on the couch at 2:30am feeling like a guilty teenager who missed curfew--sometimes you just lose track of time and your phone.

It's been over eight months since I've attended a MOMs Club Event. My babies aren't really babies anymore. I received my last "Weekly Update" from the club since my membership expired as of September 1st which made me a little emotional. In Arthur Miller's play Death of a Salesman, Willie's wife Linda tells him, "Life is a casting off." A profound, sad and accurate observation of the human experience. With the passage of time, we change, grow, and evolve and unfortunately leave things and sometimes people behind. It's time for me to cast off from a group that helped fill some lonely days and keep my sanity.

I no longer see my playgroup friends on a weekly basis. Our daily lives are now busy with school, work, soccer practices, Girl Scouts, homework, and figurative and literal laundry lists.  But we still manage to stay connected, and I'm always impressed how quickly we can return to that comfortable camaraderie we once shared. We periodically share photos on Facebook of our babies when they were babies, and we all feel a little weepy. We send a quick text to wish one another luck as we
embark on a new life journey or just to make sure the kids had a good first week at school. This morning I smiled as I watched my boys play with two of their playgroup friends who slept over last night and left the floor littered with toys like the good old days.  I like to think the universe would have found another way for me to meet these wonderful women, but I'm glad I made that choice six years ago.