18 hours ago
Thursday, January 28, 2010
The Runaway Moms Club: Are you in?
Yesterday, I went to a lunch sponsored by a local group for moms of kids with special needs. It was in a tea place, and we downed tuna wraps and did beading and hogged the pale-blue glass beads (OK, that was just me). I had no idea I had the capacity to sit still for a half hour and string beads together to make a bracelet but evidently, I do. That's my hand, second from right, and I was psyched about the photo angle because my wrist is so svelte. Even without an x-ray photo. It felt great, as always, to connect with moms who get what life is like when you're raising a kid with special needs.
The other mom group I belong to is Mothers and More, a national organization with local chapters. I go to a couple meetings a year but I am on the e-loop all the time, trading info with other moms on everything from new restaurants to plumbers who won't rip you off. It's an incredible resource, although when Max was little, I sometimes found it disconcerting. Once, there was this flurry of e-mails about baby yoga, and it made me painfully aware that I was dealing with a whole other kind of motherhood, one filled with therapists and major doctor appointments and major worry. Baby yoga? I just wanted Max to be able to move his limbs OK, period.
For years now, I've done a monthly Girls' Night Out with moms from the 'hood. We eat, drink, talk about the kids, dance on the tables, get stalked by paparazzi, you know. And then, of course, I have my bff's (hi Hedy! Hi Wendy! Hi Paola!) but they're not that nearby and it's rare to have alone time with them.
The mom group I am thinking of forming is Runaway Moms. We will meet on a Sunday night at the airport and run away to Tahiti. Then we can just Tweet our families and tell them that we are safe and tan.
You guys are, of course, my ultimate mom posse. I'm sure you feel the same about moms you've met in cyberspace. But which moms do you hang with when you're not glued to your computer?
And, wanna run away to Tahiti?
Posted by Ellen Seidman at 12:03 AM