Where Happy Goes to Die

Now that I am a stay at home mom (kinda) I signed up Wyatt and I for "Mommy and Me" story time at 10am on Friday mornings. I thought that it would be good for me to meet some other Mommy's in my neighborhood. I don't know much about babies and like to hear about life experiences to gage my own by. Generally, I find it comforting to talk to people who have young children; knowing that I am in this boat with other people who have similar concerns. They are living this life like I am. Simply having kids is not enough. Time allows you to forget the details. It all gets glossed over into this blurry land of cuddling, sweet smells, and Johnson ads. That, although nice, is not reality.

I have been a really happy person lately. A type of person that I would usually loathe. Someone that seems to be constantly happy and optimistic. I wave to people when I am taking a walk with Wyatt. I even walked a little with an elderly couple just so we could chat about the weather. I let people cut ahead of me in line if they seem in a rush. My South Carolina driving has returned. I drive the speed limit, let people in front of me, never cut people off and don't tailgate. I smile at pedestrians if they catch my eye. I chat with people on line at the deli. It is absurd and a far cry from the silent, unsmiling, iPod infused Kate of my NYC days.

However, even at my happiest, nothing could have prepared me for story time. It wasn't so much the other moms as it was the leader. She definitely was on some kind of drugs. Drugs that I would be too frightened to take. She would lead us in singing a song and we would have to clap our hands, bounce our legs, and try to teach our babies these things or at lease keep them involved. But then she moved onto hugging, kissing and cuddling our babies. I am all for hugging and kissing. I adore Wyatt. It was the organized, cult, crazy hugging that got to me. I was smiling on the outside pretending that I was a super mom loving every minute but on the inside I was terrified.

The thing that scared me the most was all the other moms seemed to be enjoying themselves while I was in hell. Wyatt clearly picked up on my distress and refused to participate at all. He was more interested in was the fish tank than any of the kissing I was attempting to smother him with. At one point, he turned and looked me straight in the eye. A look that clearly said "Mom, please lets get the hell out of here." The only reason I really wanted to go was to chat with other moms. As soon as organized play was over, they all bundled up their kids and bolted. Were they as terrified as me? Did their babies diapers explode? Do moms not converse anymore? Is everyone too damn competitive? I am debating if I am going to go back next month. I am curious if it is always like that or was this a special start up class.  I guess we'll see.  (Those pictures are not of story time but of Wyatt's little friend, Baby Jack.  Aren't they so cute?!)