I Can't Make Mom Friends

When I was growing up, there was that one mom all of the other moms complained about. They actively avoided her, knowing that if she caught them in the parking lot after school drop off, they’d be stuck for 30 minutes while she updated you on everything you never asked about: her son’s latest triumph, her daughter’s latest drama, and the salon that overcharged her and can you believe what they did to her hair? She would air all of her grievances without taking a breath to anyone unlucky enough to be simply in her vicinity.

I fear I have become that mother.

When I walk into the school gym for my kid’s basketball game, no one waves me over to sit with them. At the school art show, I notice groups of moms huddled together chatting, but I never seem to be in the inner circle.

In my youth and into young adulthood, I had wide circles of friends. There was always someone to go to the movies with, someone to call for no reason and someone’s shoulder to cry on.

Since having kids, I long for that peer-to-peer interaction more than ever (especially after those lonely pandemic years). I want to know what other people make of this whole parenting thing. Eleven years in, I still don’t feel as though I have any idea what I’m doing, and I want all the advice I can get. How much are other parents pushing their kids with academics? How much screen time do my kids’ peers get? Is my kid the only one without a phone?

I want to know when their kids go to bed and if their pre-teens still fight them on brushing their teeth like mine does (and don’t even get me started on the deodorant battle). I want to know what they think of the new math teacher and what the homework routine looks like in their house. I have an entire focus group at my fingertips, adults parenting in real time, in my region of the country, in my socioeconomic category, who have kids the same age in the same school and city as my kids, and I want to know exactly what they know, and I want to share the limited amount of things I’m confident in.

So why am I having such a hard time finding people to share this journey with? When did I turn into that mother?

I’ve tried to befriend the moms of my kids’ friends. I thought that just made sense — playdates and weekend-long baseball tournaments will be far more enjoyable if I have someone to hang out with, too.

Last summer, my soccer-loving 10-year-old wanted to see the local club team play, so we invited another soccer-loving kid and his mom. I had never spent any real time with the other mom, but I was eager to get to know her since my kid wanted to spend time with her kid. By the time the game was over, I knew how she and her husband met, which kid was her most difficult, and how she ended up living and working in the town we currently live and work in.

We haven’t been invited out with them since.

I replay that night a lot. (Why do I feel like I’m re-entering the dating pool?) Was I being too invasive and asking too many questions (occupational hazard from my years as a journalist)? Did I chew with my mouth open? Was I simply too much? Or maybe she never followed up because she thought I didn't have a good time. Maybe making friends at our age is hard for everyone.

It’s prompted me to do a bit of soul-searching. I’m alienating people I’d like to be friends with, so clearly there is something I’m doing that’s unlikable. I’ve realized I’m a chronic interrupter. I laugh too loudly. I probably do ask too many questions.

New friendships are just hard to get off the ground at this stage in life, too. I have four kids who range in age from 4 to 11, which means weeknights are tied up with after-school activities from the time my kids get home until my youngest is ready to go to bed, and bedtime for everyone takes up the rest of the evening. On weekends, we’re struggling to balance activities and keeping up home and yard maintenance and spending some sort of quality time together … just like all of the families we’re trying to get to know better. Plus, all the parents I know are Tired.

In our youth, we had time to get to know our peers at Friday night football games or during study dates. Now, I’m trying to get to know another mom while my 4-year-old is pulling on my arm because she has something to tell me that cannot wait another second and the other mom is trying to keep her baby from eating an ant.

So maybe I just haven’t found my people as an adult yet. I recently chatted with a few moms at the school sports banquet who seemed socially awkward. Our conversations hit a few uncomfortable pauses, and one kept telling incredibly benign jokes that seemed to lack a punchline. But when I found myself starting to inch away, I realized these moms had sought me out that night, and any past encounters with them had been mostly pleasant. If I’m looking for friends, I wasn’t in any position to be pushing these women away over a little awkwardness.

Maybe it’s the awkward moms who are going to be my people, maybe because I, too, am an awkward mom.

Sometimes I wonder about that mom from my youth, the one nobody ever sought out, lest you be roped into 30 minutes of odd chatter. Maybe she was lonely. Maybe she was just quirky.

Maybe she would have been my people if we’d been of the same generation. Maybe she and I would have had a lot of fun together. Instead of longing to be in the inner circle, I’m going to start trying to be more of a friend to the moms others inch away from, to plop my chair down next to them on the soccer sidelines. And when I do that, I’m going to make sure I don’t charge ahead with a monologue or an interrogation.

Or, maybe they’ll welcome that, and we’ll both have found our people.

Lauren Davidson is a Pittsburgh-based writer and editor focusing on parenting, arts and culture, and weddings. She has worked at newspapers and magazines in New England and western Pennsylvania and is a graduate of the University of Pittsburgh with degrees in English and French. She lives with her editor husband, four energetic kids, and one affectionate cat. Follow her on Twitter @laurenmylo.