
“Wouldn’t it be great,” I used to say to my coworker Michelle, “if we both got pregnant, left work, and stayed home with our babies?”
“Yeah,” agreed Michelle. “We could sleep in and, meet at the park, and chat.”
This was seven years ago. We carpooled together, sipping Caramel Macchiatos en route to a long day in a dot.com cubicle.
Motherhood would be our ticket to freedom! A baby would be our cover, an excuse for lazy mornings and carefree afternoons. We could sip Frappuccinos on the beaches of Lake Washington and watch the jet skiers whiz by. Our babies would goo and gaa while we vaguely wondered what we used to do on Tuesday afternoons.
A baby would be an endearing accessory to a life of leisure
Ha!
Within a year after the dot.com boom went bust, Michelle and I were both unemployed and pregnant. We both had daughters. But somehow our new “life of leisure” keeps us so occupied that we only meet about twice a year.
And honestly, that’s all we can handle.
Our first joint outing was to push strollers along the Burke-Gilman trail. What could be more tranquil?
Many things, apparently. Perhaps even an afternoon in a dot.com.
We were a walking war zone. Every few feet there was a sunhat tossed, sunglasses flung, and crying to be resolved. Backs arched and fists flailing, my twin daughters howled with outrage at the sun in their eyes and their inability to nap. Michelle’s daughter required constant snacks to remain in the stroller. Irritated bicyclists yelled, “ON YOUR LEFT” as we blocked the path.
Walk. Stop. Walk. Stop.
Worn out, we returned to our cars and drove separately to the Starbucks drive-thru. Then we waved goodbye through our car windows.
Our next outing was to the playground. My girls were then three years-old and Michelle had a toddling son as well.
“So how’s it going?” I said as I ran away to catch my daughter teetering on the high steps.
“What did you say?” Michelle said as she hoisted her daughter onto the swings.
“I said—CAREFUL ANNIE! You are TOO HIGH!”
“Push me! Mama push me! Push me!”
“Ryan! Ryan! Come back! STOP! RYAN STOP!”
Forty-five minutes later we hugged goodbye. Hot and tired, I remembered all the things I wanted to ask Michelle…as I drove home.
Last summer we strategically planned to meet at the beach. That way, we figured, we could sit and chat while our children were busy scooping, pouring...doing beachy things.
We arrived at Mukilteo State Park, hugged hello, and unloaded the sand pails, scoops, sunhats, towels, and diligently applied the sunscreen. This time, our brood totaled five including my baby boy.
Michelle and I sat down on our towels. Our kids sat down with us. They looked at the beach with confusion.
“I’m hungry,” her daughter said.
“I’m cold,” my daughter said.
“This is not working,” I said.
So we changed plans and drove up the hill to 92nd Street Park. Our three daughters played peacefully a few feet away on the playset. They didn’t need our help. Her son sat happily munching on crackers. My baby boy slept in my arms.
And finally, Michelle and I got to talk.
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Sarah Jane is a stay-at-home mom with three children who writes a parenting column for the Mukilteo Tribune. We will be posting her column regularly on our blog. Enjoy!