Desperately Seeking PlayDate

By Jane Suter

The concrete jungle of playground equipment looms before me this random Tuesday afternoon. Maybe this will be the day. The day I meet her: Mrs.RIGHT. Heck, I’ll even take Mrs. Right Now. I have long since lost the idealism of a perfect match. But these days, the prospect of finding a playdate, any playdate, seems slim to none.

This stay-at-home mom I seek is not for benefit of my boys. No it’s for me. I have been “off the market” for a while: having babies, changing diapers and potty training. Now that I am ready to put myself out there again, it seems all the good ones are taken. What’s an attractive, intelligent, 40-year-old woman to do?

I approach the monkey bars with my sons Aiden, 5, and Reese, 3, eagerly looking for any prospects. I spot one under the neon green, corkscrew sliding board. She looks nice, well put together. Maybe she craves a new friend who understands the minutia of our daily, robotic life. The mind numbing “Groundhog Day” of laundry, snacks, cleaning up, bedtime, repeat. I approach her, undaunted by my loss of what to say.

I remember, not so long ago, when this used to be so easy. Before kids, I was fun, outgoing, and energetic. Yeah I’ll say it: I was hot, hot, hot! But these days I am a pantry full of Cheerio’s and a case of wet wipes away from being a survivalist! The scolds of “no” and “not now” are the only intelligent words that have crossed my lips these past five years. Sure, I have memorized every Sesame Street and Laurie Berkner song ever recorded, and I can act out the Itsy Bitsy Spider with Academy Award precision, but this impresses few, save the under-4 crowd.

I worry that I have been out of circulation too long to jump back into the game. That my edge is gone and my appeal faded. Or worse, (gasp) that I have lost the ability to speak the foreign language of adulthood. Still, I approach the woman.

“Hi, my name is Jane,” spills out of my mouth, a little too eagerly. “Hi,” she replies, looking a little caught off guard. “I’m Julie.”

I bet she gets hit on all the time.

I introduce my boys, who make friends with her children in less than 40 seconds – the little showoffs -- and I begin the clumsy dance of probing her for information.

“So, do you live around here?” This, by the way, is crucial information based on current gas prices and the calculation of how many “are we there yet’s” you can handle, divided by the time spent trapped in a car with your young. So a word to the wise: location, location, location!

We exchange some pleasantries like, “what a great day to be outside” and “Wow this park is clean,” and then I notice it. Right there in the middle of her shirt: A baby bump! We talk some more and I learn she is due any day now. In other words, she is off the market. For the next six months she will be devoid of any contact with the outside world. Enmeshed in that foggy malaise of sleep deprivation and baby vomit. She simply wouldn’t have time for a new relationship.

My fantasy of the two of us sipping Merlot together on her gorgeous back deck while our cherubs play perfectly together is dashed.Yes, sadly the rumors are true. All the good ones are taken.

As I leave the playground, juggling my boys’ jackets, gloves, hats, Cheerio bag, a tan rubber dinosaur, my car keys, a light up giant eyeball, 3 rocks, some acorns and a sand encrusted Hot Wheels car, I wonder … Am I doomed to be single forever?

I posed this question to another mom I tried to “pick up” last week. Before you ask, yes, she was taken too. Already in a committed relationship with three gal-pals with children the same age as hers. She was a playdate polygamist! But we discussed how hard it was to meet moms you want to hang out with: the fun ones, the happy ones, the ones without issues. She gave me hope. Plus, I figured if she could date three at one time, then surely I could land one. So I decide to re-double my efforts.

With new resolve I decide drastic measures must be taken. That’s right -- “The Fun Fort:” A virtual meat market for moms. Even though I wasn’t sure I was ready for the big leagues, I put on my best sneakers, grabbed the boys and headed out the door.

The Fort was ablaze with activity. There were new moms, veteran moms, poor ones and rich ones. It was the United Nations of caregivers and I was the newest Ambassador. I let my boys play while I silently observed the rituals of this new land.

The rules seemed simple: Don’t speak to anyone. Bring a book to hide behind if necessary. Look a little freaked out at all times.

The only time you speak to another adult is if your child has an altercation with one of their children. Upon resolution of said altercation, retreat to your corner of the fort. If someone DOES speak to you without provocation, smile and look interested for a moment, then run off screaming “no!” at your child to escape the human contact. And finally, men are exempt from all of these rules.

Needless to say, the “Fun Fort” was not that fun for me. Aiden and Reese had a blast and beg me to take them back again tomorrow. “We’ll see,” I reply, wondering how I am going to get out of this one? As I drive home I realize, I had survived the battle but lost the Fort.

In response to this latest failure to find a playdate candidate, I decide someone should come up with an on-line playdating service! It would cater solely to exhausted mothers who seek only the commiseration and company of another who “get’s it”!

The questionnaire would be something like this:

(Circle all that apply)

1.    What are your interests:   Reading   Movies    Outdoors

2.    Do you drink:   Yes   No    Constantly

That’s it. Just those 2 questions. As Mothers we get interrogated enough!

I also think a “speed” playdating event should be held monthly.

You could weed out the riff-raff quickly, avoid the constant interruptions of your children, and get a few hours out of the bunker. And who knows, you may even find a match! That perfect woman just like you!

As I pull into our driveway, feeling slightly defeated about striking out at The Fort, I realize the time - 4:30pm! This dating thing is certainly a time-sucker. Exhausting really! So I order out, clean up, bathe the boys and put them to bed. I pour myself a glass of Merlot and snuggle up in front of the TV with my husband. I tell him of my travails and he comforts me with a, “don’t worry, you’ll find someone” speech, which, as absurd as it all sounded, really did help.

While my quest continues and I navigate this strange world of motherhood, I realize all I really need is my family: my loving husband, my precious boys and our dog, Mr. Wilson. Oh, who am I kidding? I need a DATE!