The Writing Mamas Daily Blog

Each day on the Writing Mamas Daily Blog, a different member will write about mothering.

If you're a mom then you've said these words, you've made these observations and you've lived these situations - 24/7.

And for that, you are a goddess.

Sunday, May 20, 2007


It Takes a Village?

When I first moved to our idyllic suburban neighborhood six-months pregnant, I imagined the cul-de-sac of my own youth. There were so many young families I was hoping for a commune of sorts.

I imagined trades and breaks and everybody pitching in to help each other. I really was counting on all of us raising our families together. Now, seven years later, I realize it is not meant to be. While I do feel a special bond with all mothers, especially moms with two children close in age, I realize there is a difference between proximity and convenience. Yes, I know all my neighbors, but that does not mean I like them. I have such a hard time asking, let alone accepting or feeling, like I deserve help.

When we were all pregnant at the same time and all new to the neighborhood, we formed quick friendships that I imagined growing over time as our families grew. But two siblings later, I still feel as if I am imposing if I ask a favor. The children do play together and there is one other family that we do regular trades with but it is nothing like I expected. More often than not I am stuck home with my own children. Why does it feel like such a chore?

As far as helping each other out, we have a ways to go. There are mornings when it bugs me to see the three of us who go to the same school pull out of our driveways simultaneously. But then the other day one asked if I could hang out at her house while her little one napped so she could pick up her first grader.

Since my little one was at a play date and my first grader was already bored with my company, I happily agreed. We walked up the street together hand-in-hand imagining how much fun the change of scenery would be. We could not wait to see a new assortment of toys.

After 15 minutes, my 7-year old declared he was bored again and wanted to go home. It was comforting to know he could walk safely home stopping and checking at each of the five driveways.

He waved to me as he turned into our own driveway and I settled in to enjoy myself. I was thrilled to discover a new assortment of magazines.

Maybe I was the one who needed a change of scenery.

By Cathy Burke

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This is a lovely piece. The sentence "As close as the space between my palms." stopped me in my tracks - I thought it was stunning.

Marianne Lonsdale
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