A friend, who hasn't yet started a family but wants to, sat across the table and passed me the bread and said, "I just don't want my life to become a series of poop and playdates."
It didn't hurt my feelings. In the context of the conversation, I knew just what she meant. My friend has an ultra cool career, in a glam city, with a hip husband. She wants a family, in theory, but she just cannot envision how that would adapt to her life. She has an idea of what a mom looks like, and it doesn't appeal to her.
Even though I'm sitting across from her, same as I ever was, with just a little spit up stain on the left shoulder of my sweater.
When my sister was in law school and I was still a child, she had a framed Bible verse hanging in her tiny apartment's bathroom. "Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart." (Psalm 37:4) I had, in my young mind, thought this verse meant that if you asked for something earnestly, you would receive. A junior high version of the prosperity gospel. But my sister explained to me that God doesn't spend his days fulfilling prayer requests, he's not the giant waiter in the sky. Instead, when you choose a life that honors God, he changes the desires of your heart.
I don't, in general, like to play with kids. So I never really saw myself as a playdate kind of person. Until I started meeting Morgan at the park. We would talk about blogging while our toddlers poured sand over their heads. Then Rachel had a baby, and she would bring her over and we'd sit at the table eating cookies. I like to talk about blogging, I like to eat cookies. These are things I like anyway, with people I like anyway. But what else would you call them if not playdates?
The first time The Gorilla and I put Pigtail on a horse at the park and it trotted off with her and without us was one of the best moments of my entire life. It was a normal Saturday morning. Pigtail was 18 months old, my belly was starting to swell with Pirate. And I can't remember a space of time when I felt so much joy.
I can't sleep in as much anymore. I don't get to read as many books as I used to. I've long been a proponent of adapting a child into your own life instead of the other way around, but maybe I've been fooling myself all along. Because in my heart of hearts, I would choose no other way to spend a Saturday than with the ponies at the park on a playdate.
The desires of my heart have changed, while I didn't even notice. But Poop and Playdates would make a good name for a mommy blog, wouldn't it?