The Truth About Playgroups

When my daughter was just six weeks old, I (Betsy) went to my first mommy group--a breastfeeding support group. The nurses at the hospital where I'd given birth had told me that it would be a "great way" to meet new friends and get used to the idea of self-imposed torture (I mean "breastfeeding").

Yeah, right.

Normally I would never venture into such dangerous and physically revealing territory. But when you're sleep deprived and still walking bowlegged from the birthing process, you'll do some crazy things. So I gathered Lily, found the meeting in a nondescript office building, and shuffled into the room with my overstuffed diaper bag, leaking boobs, and screaming newborn.

Between the handouts, florescent lighting, folding chairs, and forced introductions, it actually seemed more like an AA meeting. It was that uncomfortable. There, we were encouraged to share all our horror stories while our sponsor (I mean, "lactation consultant") gave us advice. Then, if you didn't want an hour of free instruction, you could always chat up the other moms while you tried to avoid staring at their naked boobs.

You'd think that would be enough for me to grab Lily and run for the door, but nooo, I was determined to make friends. Unfortunately, I'd joined the group two weeks too late for that. By the time I showed up, everyone had already formed alliances.

I tried going several times, and no one-NO ONE-so much as returned a smile or talked to me. Each time I got home from a meeting, I would study myself in the mirror. Spit-up on my maternity clothing? Check. Bags under the eyes? Check. Cute, overpriced diaper bag? Check. I was just like everyone else there. So why didn't these moms want to be friends with me?

Was it the nipple shield I'd used during group? Or the face I made when one mom boasted about how much she loved nursing? Who knows? The point is, mommy groups can be more cliquey than the junior high lunchroom. And facing down the "A List" is always nerve-wracking, but when you're still experiencing night sweats and wearing maternity underwear, it can be brutal to your self-esteem.

Lest you think I wrote off all mommy groups on the basis of one bad apple, though, let me assure you that I tried. Several months later, I checked out a playgroup in my area. It has to be better than the breastfeeding support group, I thought. And it was . . . for the other moms. I just didn't fit in. This became painfully obvious when they talked excitedly about how we needed to do a girl's night out.

"Let's meet at my house," the leader squeaked, clapping her hands. "We can all bring our wedding albums and scrapbooking materials!"

I looked at her, trying to mask my disappointment. Seriously? Because honestly, I'd rather scrub my bathroom than spend my one free evening gawking at the wedding pictures of people I hardly know.

By this point you must be thinking that I sounded as snobby as the women I tried to befriend in the breastfeeding support group. Maybe I was. I did feel bad about the way I acted when I stopped coming abruptly and ran into the playgroup at our neighborhood park several months later. The thing was, I just couldn't get over the forced sisterhood. When you join an organized mommy group, you're hanging out with people you may never normally be friends with in the hopes that you'll be able to have a few hours of adult conversation while your kids steal toys from each other. The groups are supposed to be for the kids, but kids don't care who they "play" with, especially when they're little. The groups are really for the moms. And if you're not connecting with the moms, then what's the point?

So I gave up and found friends the old-fashioned way. At the park. At my church. And on walks. I now have a great group of mommy friends. In fact, we all get along so well that my husband has nicknamed us "the Gackle," because we squawk like geese as we go on walks and talk about really important things like the latest botched nose job featured in US Weekly. I don't know what I'd do without the Gackle-or the "P.O.T. Group," as we used to call ourselves. ("P.O.T." meaning "Parents of Toddlers: Because You'll Need to Smoke Some to Get Through These Years!")

The bottom line is that whether you find friends through an organized playgroup or more organically, you need to have your own Gackle. Because mommyhood is hard, and you need all the support you can get. Spanx and sisters included.

Speaking of sisterly support, it's your turn, Summer.

Let me (Summer) just start by saying that there's nothing wrong with playgroups. Really. They are awesome and necessary and well loved by many moms. Unfortunately, the "organized" ones weren't quite my cup o' tea either.

To be fair, I haven't been to very many groups. Actually, I've only been to two. But both of them made me feel very un-motherly. And I make myself feel that way just fine already, so I really don't need any encouragement from others.

I think in order to fix the issues we're having with these "organized" playgroups, we need to require that all playgroups have names that describe exactly what they're about (or not about). Too many of them just go by the name of the area they're in, like "Carmel Mountain Mommies." It's misleading.

For example, one of the playgroups I attended should have been named "Scrapbook or Bust." These moms were very into their crafty ways. Let me again say that's totally cool. More power to those of you who find love and freedom in your craft. It's just that I would much rather pay you to do mine than sit and do it myself. After all, I have my own addictions to feed...like gossip magazines and blogging.

The other playgroup I tried out was a bit more stuffy than I'd like to think myself to be. I mean, I may not be high class, but I'm sure I do have some class. Unfortunately, the other moms didn't seem to think so when I showed up for the "Mommy's Night Out" with doughnuts in hand. I heard snickers and snide remarks: "Oh, my, who brought doughnuts?" And, "Are you kidding me, are those really doughnuts?" To which I replied, "What?!? Mama needed some doughnuts! Why you gotta diss? Shooot . . ." (And by "replied," I mean, of course, that I thought it in my head! Come on now, I said I have some class!!!) So, you see, if they had just named their playgroup "Moms That Are Too Good for Doughnuts," I never would have found myself in that situation to begin with. Because I could never be part of a group that didn't embrace fried bread and frosting.

Oh, and that same playgroup, the "I Hate Doughnuts" one? They have a message board that I used from time to time. I officially knew it wasn't the group for me when I posted a message asking which BPA free bottles would be best to use. And instead of help, I got a backlash of whisper and chatter: "Who is that girl asking about bottles? Ugh, I just wanted to respond, 'Doesn't she know that Breast Is Best?'" (I have an insider in the group, so I know these things!) I mean, come on now! At least I was asking about BPA FREE bottles! Don't I get some credit for that?

Anyway, I've decided that I just need to start my own playgroup. After all, it's a requirement that seems to go with motherhood (along with breastfeeding). You simply must be affiliated with a playgroup. It's the unspoken word on the street.

So I'll call mine:

"Moms who pay scrapbookers to scrapbook for them, who love to read and gossip about celebrities, who don't want to talk about their kids when they're with other adults, who could care less who breastfeeds or formula feeds, who wouldn't mind having a glass of wine at playgroup, and who want to pair that wine with a nice big ol' doughnut."

That's the playgroup I'm looking for!

Fellow Mamas, are you in?