Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

As I hung up the phone, sadness washed over me. My eyes welled with tears. Heaviness clenched my heart.

I had just told my son’s friend, Joshua, that he was no longer free to call our home. Maybe it’s part of the relationship factor between little boys, but it doesn’t seem like MY friends call me at home and curse at me after a tiff on a computer game. And hang up. And then call back later and start all over. (Then again, I don’t know what kind of people you like to hang with…)

This went on all day, until finally I had had enough. When Josh’s name came up on caller ID, I snatched up the phone and told him to stop.

He muttered a half-hearted apology…and then, he was gone.

And then, my tears came.

Oh, no. I wasn’t crying because of what I said to Josh. Frankly, that brat had it coming.

It was the fact that I now wouldn’t be able to talk to Katie, Joshua’s MOTHER.

You see, I really, really liked Katie. When our kids were getting along, we would gab on the phone for hours about how silly they were. She laughed at my jokes and sense of humor. I admired her calm demeanor and carefree attitude.

I kept thinking that I had FINALLY found a mom that would make my friendship dreams come true. The last mom I had felt this way about was Donna. Our sons played basketball together and went to the same school. We bonded like peas and carrots. But once the season ended, it seemed as if our friendship took to the bench as well.

Katie and Donna were likable, smart and Good Moms. And they thought I was witty. These were all prerequisites for being “my kinda Peeps.” After all, my son had a string of friends with mothers who were so dysfunctional, they made Peg Bundy look like June Cleaver.

Isn’t it interesting that you can meet another mom, and she can APPEAR to be NORMAL? (At least, she fits your description of NORMAL.)

Then, she says or does something, and you think, “OH…MY…GOD. THIS WOMAN IS NUTS. I HAVE TO GET AWAY FROM HER AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. And my son can…never…talk…to…her…kid….ever…again.”

There was Noreen. She was nice enough. She was a gymnast from Russia and seemed to have a worldly view on things. Until she decided to tell me that anyone who wasn’t White shouldn’t live in America.

Next was Tiffany. She had a way of warning and scolding simultaneously. Each time her son misbehaved - which was about every four minutes – she would screech, “That’s it! I’m giving you to the count of three to STOP, Mister!...One! Two! Three!” After three sets of this, I was ready to put myself in timeout.

And let’s not forget Veronica. When I saw her on the playground, she would hassle me about hosting a Pampered Chef party. Or buying candles. Or sampling a new hand cream. I almost reconsidered when she told me about the Passion Parties with the “adult” toys, but by then she was on my last nerve.

Then along came Katie. My search for a NORMAL mom was over.

Until our kids started fighting. And along came the cursing phone calls. Unfortunately, I was forced to learn something about NORMAL moms.

They don’t always have NORMAL children.

So, now, I’m back to Square One. My son decided he didn’t want to be friends with Josh, and moved on.

For me, I’m learning that maybe it’s not such a good idea to force relationships with the mothers of my son’s friends. I guess I expect moms to be just like me. After all, I try to do the best I can, manage my hectic schedule on less sleep than I would like, pray my child will turn out okay, and hope he calls me on Sundays when he grows up.

I grab my iPod and consider playing "She's Gone" by Hall and Oates. My phone rings.

It’s Donna, the mom from the basketball team. “I haven’t talked to you in a while,” she says. “Can we get the boys together today for a ...”

I don’t hear the rest of her sentence. I’m already in the car, backing out of the driveway.