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.
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Confessions of a Serial Play Dater
By 2002, it had been 14 years since I was “fresh off the boat” from Australia. Halloween was my favorite holiday, I ate pancakes with bacon, hosted a dog party, TiVo’d the Super Bowl, even registered for gifts. I was employed, acclimatized and smugly assimilated.
Any of life’s puzzling issues were conveniently attributed to a small-town upbringing and my not-so-small town California life. Then came the journey to new-parent land.
No passport required.
This land came with confounding limitations, and a whole new vocabulary. With time, I learnt to embrace “tummy-time,” “Ferberizing,” even “transitional objects” and “time-out.” It was the social mores, in particular the enigmatic “play date,” that had me stumped.
What is a play date? Who is it for? Does one or both expect a new friendship to develop? Who decides if you have a second date? Does someone get hurt? How is it different to adult dating? And how to get started? Sadly, not all of us live in an archetypal village from which perfect children emerge.
It was 2003, and we were newcomers to Los Angeles. With Baby Bjorn and false courage in place, I ventured out to carouse, sippy-cup style, the most happening toddler hot spots.
The results were pitiful. In fact, the whole experience took me back to my equally-as-pitiful single days, with both parties creatively avoiding the possible entanglement that a second date portends. Finally, I had to admit to myself -- I had become a serial play-dater. Where were my scruples?
I discussed this at length with a fellow Aussie who had stalked unsuspecting mums in the parks of Sydney and London. She confirmed that mothers are using and discarding mothers all over the world (the fathers – well I just don’t know, perhaps they are better at parallel play). “It’s perfectly normal,” she told me, and “you need that first date to really check it out.”
Looking back, I may well have become a first play date expert.
What did I learn? In the end it’s all about chemistry. Those first play dates are just like adult dating. As a single, you endure the pain and you learn to recognize your mate. As a parent, endure the pain of the first play date and you will learn about yourself, your child and the foreign culture of your new world.
It is 2007, and turns out I have a social almost 4-year old girl who loves my friends, single or otherwise, and has the perfect taste in kids (my taste) making play dates a cinch. I am employed, acclimatized, assimilated, and socialized – wondering which land is next, and what visa to apply for.
By Robyn Murphy
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Any of life’s puzzling issues were conveniently attributed to a small-town upbringing and my not-so-small town California life. Then came the journey to new-parent land.
No passport required.
This land came with confounding limitations, and a whole new vocabulary. With time, I learnt to embrace “tummy-time,” “Ferberizing,” even “transitional objects” and “time-out.” It was the social mores, in particular the enigmatic “play date,” that had me stumped.
What is a play date? Who is it for? Does one or both expect a new friendship to develop? Who decides if you have a second date? Does someone get hurt? How is it different to adult dating? And how to get started? Sadly, not all of us live in an archetypal village from which perfect children emerge.
It was 2003, and we were newcomers to Los Angeles. With Baby Bjorn and false courage in place, I ventured out to carouse, sippy-cup style, the most happening toddler hot spots.
The results were pitiful. In fact, the whole experience took me back to my equally-as-pitiful single days, with both parties creatively avoiding the possible entanglement that a second date portends. Finally, I had to admit to myself -- I had become a serial play-dater. Where were my scruples?
I discussed this at length with a fellow Aussie who had stalked unsuspecting mums in the parks of Sydney and London. She confirmed that mothers are using and discarding mothers all over the world (the fathers – well I just don’t know, perhaps they are better at parallel play). “It’s perfectly normal,” she told me, and “you need that first date to really check it out.”
Looking back, I may well have become a first play date expert.
What did I learn? In the end it’s all about chemistry. Those first play dates are just like adult dating. As a single, you endure the pain and you learn to recognize your mate. As a parent, endure the pain of the first play date and you will learn about yourself, your child and the foreign culture of your new world.
It is 2007, and turns out I have a social almost 4-year old girl who loves my friends, single or otherwise, and has the perfect taste in kids (my taste) making play dates a cinch. I am employed, acclimatized, assimilated, and socialized – wondering which land is next, and what visa to apply for.
By Robyn Murphy
Labels: Robyn Murphy
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