Dear Abby (Internet, that's you),
If someone had told me that at the ripe old age of 26 I'd be married, with a baby, and friendless, I would have laughed and then cried, and then punched them in the face. Seriously, ladies, do I need to move to Utah or something? Where all the babymommas at? I have joined moms' groups, I've participated in the (mind-boggling) forums, I've showed up to the socials, even loitered at the park hoping some friendly gal would come by and we'd share breastfeeding advice as we pushed our tots in the bucket swings. Ha! How I wish. You think finding a mate is hard? These playdates I've been going to are like speed-dating with Stepford wives and the PTA women from Weeds. Let me paint you a picture as to why I have no "mommy" friends:
1) I live in Marin County, one of the most affluent areas in the world. Women here are career and income focused, waiting til 30-35 to have a baby, and then returning after a brief 3-month maternity leave.
2) My Lovah and I are eight years apart. That means I have friends who are only just now getting engaged, while his are established at home with a few already older children.
3) Our baby is the first grandchild on my family's side (in the area, at least), while Lovah's sister has a 10-month-old, but they live in Scotland.
4) My pre-baby friends are still living the sweet life in their 20s. When I bring my babe to one of our Sex and the City morning coffee catch-ups, they are nursing a hangover while I'm...nursing. They have all sorts of questions about the delivery, stretch marks and milk boobs, and "wait, you can't drink anymore?" I love them to death but they don't understand.
5) Because of reason #1, the women don't nurse but use nannies/night nurses/random strangers (kidding. kind of) to do the heavy lifting and allow the moms to be able to return to work. They also have mansions, top-of-the-line baby gear, private tutors for Chinese and the piano (Ivy League training starts early), and are generally uber-neurotic, don't-touch-that-dirt! mothers.
These are mere observations and my bitterness might make me over-exaggerate a tad. But basically, I feel like Juno when I show up to my playdates. While they discuss their real estate investments and their husbands' jobs in the stock market, I'm gorging on the (deserted) spread of catered food, laughing at the explosive diarrhea sounds coming from my baby's diaper, and explaining the injustice behind Siobhan Magnus' elimination from American Idol. On top of age, I have nothing in common with these ladies. What gives? Do I need to get everyone wasted and pull out Twister? There has to be one normal person who wants to be my friend!
Has anyone else had this experience? What do I do?
Friendless in San Fran