Why We Are Removing the Phrase "Play Date" from Our Lexicon

Recently, I have found myself battling with whether or not I need to or should explain this out loud, but I think we've finally hit critical mass. It needs to be put out there in the universe.

It's possible that this is going to be unpopular, but as of last fall, we, as a family, have decided to remove the phrase "Play Date" from our lexicon. For the record, I am definining a "Play Date" as the planned activity of a kid going to a house or a kid coming to (and into) our house—not necessarily the definition of families getting together in a party setting or gathering with kids. That's different. I'm not sure if that's the true definition of "Play Date," but that is what it has morphed into in our world. It's just the basic act of a kid being over at our house or our kid(s) being at someone else's house.

There are a multitude of reasons for this conclusion, but I will lay out the most important ones.

It's too hard to manage. It's too hard to be fair to each of our (three) kids about it (Henry seems to get the most play date requests around here). It's too hard to be equitable to the play date participants (balancing work, school schedules, and multiple friend sets from each kid).

I don't know if this is your experience at all, but we started to see a pattern that one play date didn't necessarily satiate any kid—it only intensified the need for more activity, more play dates, more things that we need to do and get on the schedule. The more we do, the more we are expected to do. Enough is not enough. It cannot be sustained.

We (my husband and I) realized awhile back in our experience that parenthood is basically just a careful management of expectations. This is just part of that puzzle. We do a variety of other lame-looking things to navigate this, but we're just talking about one particular thing, here.

Our kids are at an age, now, where they are capable of managing their friendships outside of our involvement. Furthermore, and I recognize (and appreciate that) we are really lucky here, we do live in a neighborhood where, when it is nice outside, our kids can roam and go to parks and meet up with their local friends there. This is more challenging during these intense winter months (and, during the school year, when it seems like everyone goes to a different school in our neighborhood), but on warmer days, they still try to make it happen. At least during this time of year, they have school friends that they are interacting with and developing relationships with (although, I do wish there was more social time/recess available to them at school, which is a whole other blog topic for another time), too.

My husband and I grew up in an age where everyone was disconnected from constant and immediate contact, and we were responsible for managing our social interactions. Was it boring sometimes? Yes. It turns out that it's good for you to be bored, though. We wish this type of personal growth (disguised as mysery) for our kids, too. They deserve that.

So, while we look like some weird, stand-offish jerks on the surface, we're actually just trying to cork the seals and ford this unpredictable stream. Hopefully, this mysery will have some company. Outside. At a park.

7 Reflections on Today

1. It's funny how there are people who feel that they own specific floor space in a Zumba class, and I'm always in it!? Even if I was there first. I'm not saying I dislike these people: they seem nice. But, this is real and weird. I can be in any particular spot in a room and not really care—I just prefer personal space.

2. If grocery shopping takes you Y amount of time on your own, when children are added to the mix, you take Y and multiply it by 2 for one child and add one more to the multiplier for each additional child. So, for example, for me, it's Y x 4. I spent half the day at Meijer today (with my children), and we all about died.

3. Need a job, anybody? Meijer in Portage needs more deli people. It wasn't posted, but that was my observation.

4. There was a mom at Meijer (at 12:35 p.m. today) at the checkout who had a screaming toddler and a laughing 10-month-old. I saw several people flee the line to avoid them, and I purposely went to that line. My kids entertained the 10-month-old (who was doing fine on his own because he thought his screaming brother was hilarious), and I said a couple of things to the mom that I thought I'd have liked to hear (from, clearly, a seasoned veteran with my whole crew there) like, "It's quite something to have one laughing while one is crying, isn't it? Talent!" and "Ooh. 12:35 p.m. It's about that time. I'm familiar with that. I've done that a few times."

She smiled in appreciation, and it's possible my kids drove her nuts. However, she did take a moment to tell us all to have a good day as she left. I think that's a good sign.

5. There was another mom at Meijer who was waiting with her son for Sandy while my kids were rudely monopolizing her (Sandy). Everett was mopping the floor with his body under Sandy (trying to get a penny!? and a disease!?). Nora found an extra penny and gave her newly purchased (with her own money) white stuffed tiger a ride on Sandy. I said the following things out loud in no particular order:

"Everett. Stop mopping under Sandy with your body. If you're trying to get a penny, it isn't worth it."

"Nora. There is a living, breathing boy over here who is waiting very patiently to ride Sandy while you give your stuffed animal a ride."

"Guys. Stop sticking your fingers in the moving parts of Sandy. That is unwise."

Then, I found out that Everett still hadn't taken his turn, and as I was losing my $#!+ about it, the other mom looked at me (fondly, I would say) and said, "Oh! Don't worry about it. He can go."

After that, she intimated that it's hilarious: the things that we find ourselves saying as parents and offered the "moving parts" comment as one of those things.

6. There are people in this world that are super angry all the time, and nothing will melt their icy hearts. As I was coming out with all my ducklings, Everett, who had grazed all the aisles of Meijer for random trash, had decided he wanted to throw out a couple of items before crossing the street. A woman in a large SUV appeared to be waiting for us to cross when Ev decided this, and I was too busy making sure nobody ran into the parking lot. Three seconds passed (while Ev delivered his trash to the receptacle), and this woman (in the SUV) hit the gas hard so as to make a racket, and as she drove by, she was shaking her head. My first instinct is to always think, "What a jerk." But, then, I remember: her life probably sucks if she's going to behave that way on purpose. (Not that I expected her to wait. It's just weird that she had to shake her head and be all huffy about us not crossing when she needed us to . . . when I have THREE kids that I am managing and a very large cart.)

7. Top three least favorite roads to travel in the whole world in ascending order:

1. I65 south near Merrillville. 
2. US30 in Merrillville.
3. Willowcreek/Crisman Road in Portage.

BONUS ITEM: Dogs are gross.

This Parenting Job is Hard

Nora's been in Kindergarten for two weeks. Typing that is so weird.

Today, I was trying to make sandwiches for two screaming, exhausted boys at about 12:15, when the phone rang. It was the school nurse calling. Nora had bumped her head at recess (hard) and was really upset in the clinic. I asked, "Is she okay?"

"She doesn't have a cut or anything, but she has a pretty big goose egg," the nurse said.

I stood there blinking for what felt like an entire minute.

"Um. What do I need to do?" I eventually asked.

"Well, Nora really needs her mommy," is what I heard. She may have really said that.

"Do I need to come get her?" I asked.

"Well . . .  if you just want to pop in and hug her, you could do that. She will probably be okay once she gets back to class, but if you wanted to come get her, I would excuse the absence," she said.

My jaw dropped open as I looked at my two little boys, mopping the floor with their bodies, who desperately needed naps. There was no flippin' way I was going to be able to throw them in the car just to go comfort her. I knew it'd make it worse, too. If I went in there, she was going to come home with me.

Then, she let Nora talk to me for a minute. Nora begged for me to come "just for a minute." I tried to tell her that the boys were about to take a nap, and I just couldn't. I told her I was sorry she was hurting. (It was awful, by the way.)

When the nurse got back on the line, something took over, and it was like someone else was talking. "Look. I can't really go in there just to give her a hug. I think it'll make it worse. If she still struggles when you send her back to class, let me know. I will find a way to come get her."

That's something a parent would say. That's weird.