Still Me: Click for special section

Working the Mom Network

The struggles of making new mom friends

Discussion Policy
Comments that include profanity or personal attacks or other inappropriate comments or material will be removed from the site. Additionally, entries that are unsigned or contain "signatures" by someone other than the actual author will be removed. Finally, we will take steps to block users who violate any of our posting standards, terms of use or privacy policies or any other policies governing this site. Please review the full rules governing commentaries and discussions. You are fully responsible for the content that you post.
Jill Hudson Neal
Special to washingtonpost.com
Tuesday, January 30, 2007; 5:02 PM

Before I had kids, I never imagined how challenging it would be to make new mom friends -- or master the Art of Mom Networking. I'm not talking about socializing with friends you already know who happen to be mothers. I mean connecting with complete strangers so that your children will have friends and not grow up to be homebound deviant sociopaths. Count yourself lucky if you have the opportunity to meet interesting new moms in hospitable territory -- at a neighbor's house, through a mutual friend or at church. Breaking in cold to an already established group of bonded mothers can feel exactly like being back in junior high school -- and I don't mean that in a good way.

I'm vaguely aware of all the socializing going on between moms at my children's suburban preschool, but I'm a mere satellite to their perch at the hot, bright center of the school's universe. Once in a while, I'll spy another mom -- let's call her Cream-Colored SUV Chick -- during the morning drop-off and think, "She looks cool; I should probably try to talk to her." I know nothing about this woman -- she could be a drunk for all I know -- but she's always beautifully turned out, as is her cute pony-tailed daughter. She's calm and serene, and seems thoroughly prepared for motherhood. We've spoken only once, when I stopped to compliment her drool-worthy handbag. She was gracious, even friendly, but that halting ten-second exchange was the extent of our slightly awkward interaction. As my children are two of only a handful of African-American children in the school, I'm always looking to make a new connection with another mother of color. But I'm too reluctant to become this woman's stalker and there's no obvious "in."

I have a few serious disadvantages when playing in the Mom Networking game. First, I'm not great at small talk about kid stuff, which is the one and only topic you'll likely have in common with other moms, at least in the beginning. Beyond the obligatory "How old is (insert name here)?" or "That is the cutest coat/sweater/hat -- where'd you get it?", I'm lost. It might be too weird to walk up to another parent waiting to sign in at the front office and say, "You see 'American Idol' last night? That show is like CRACK!" I'm also afraid of forging a friendship with a mom through kid chat, only to have it remain there. I enjoy hearing stories about toddler meltdowns in the grocery store and science projects gone awry as much as anyone, but 50 minutes spent talking about toxic diapers does not a play date make. And as much as I love them, I just don't want to talk about my kids all day long -- and I suspect most moms would say the same.

Issue two: what to do about the Alpha Moms? There's a group of them at every school who make themselves known right away. They make everything work: the PTA, school auctions, after-school activities, etc. One senses that these women would be running a Fortune 500 company if they weren't dedicated stay-at-home moms invested in making their kids' school a runway-lit path to the Ivy League. I'm not judging them; in fact, I have huge respect for their skills as organizers and macro-thinkers. It's just that the Mom Mafia has a definite social hierarchy and I suspect I fall in the same spot as Enzo the Baker, who existed only to help Michael Corleone scare off the goons outside Vito's hospital. Which is to say that I can be useful if I happen to be around when something is needed. The good news is that we trench moms outnumber the alpha moms by a good percentage. The bad news is that finding other like-minded moms with whom you'll want to become friends requires the extra bit of mental bandwidth and native social intuition that motherhood and lack of sleep has robbed me of.

My biggest Mom Networking hurdle is the lack of time. As a working mom, nearly every single minute of my workday is accounted for. If I've alotted 45 minutes in my morning commute time to drive the kids to school, get them to their classrooms and back out again, adding an extra 15 minutes or catch up with another mom can send the train off the tracks. Afternoons or evenings are worse; kids are tired and in need of an insulin boost, which makes small talk a foolhardy idea. Weekends are more relaxed, but they're reserved for fun family activities, which may or may not include Mom Networking staples like play dates, Gymboree classes or potluck dinners.

I also suffer slightly from AGS (Affirmed Geek Syndrome), which makes me both leery of putting myself in a vulnerable social position and inordinantly desirous of being liked. Don't worry, this is being worked out in therapy, but it makes Mom Networking difficult. Geeks aren't typically assertive (needed for introducing oneself to unknown mothers or suggesting another meeting) or socially competitive (elbowing others aside in order to get to the most popular moms, say). Opportunism is another good trait to possess, but it would probably never occur to me to network at the bus stop or on an after-dinner stroll through my neighborhood.

Let's be honest, networking is really another word for interviewing. Moms are interviewing each other to see which ones fit best with their family's lifestyle. The best you can hope for is that everyone gets along -- the kids like each other and the moms enjoy each other's company. Worst case scenario, the interview ends with a "Don't call us. We'll call you," and you're back to pounding the schoolyard pavement.



© 2007 Washingtonpost.Newsweek Interactive