Nic was a month old when we went for our first playgroup. I was so proud that I had made it to the designated walking path, unloaded my behemoth of a stroller and met the group of new moms in time. That day, we walked and talked. It was banal, mostly sleep and poop talk I’m sure, but we were there. We were outside in the sunshine, we were connecting with someone else who was dealing with the same upheaval that we were.
Nic and I became playgroup regulars—spending mornings circled around with other moms and babies at the park, on living room floors, in libraries and in book stores. It was precious time and it was so valuable. Not only were we expected to leave the house at least once a week, but we were making friends and sharing stories. I treasure that time.
My local mothers’ club has been a savior to me. Not only for playgroups, but also for the advice forum, fantastic classifieds, Mother’s Day pampering nights and even a holiday gift wrap party. (Seriously, who knew wrapping presents with other moms over wine could be so much fun?) The club was the start of my local village and has led me to invaluable resources in the past five years. I’m so thankful for its existence.
This post part one in a short series on mothers’ clubs. Next, I’ll tell the story of being able to thank, in-person, the woman who helped establish my local mothers’ club and many many others across the United States.