The Evolution of a Momance: Stage 1

Stage 1: Finding the One

Picture this. You’re at the park with your pack of wild animals… I mean children. You scan the premise. This place is littered with potential mom pals, but you need to weed the non-matches. You check out your options.

To the right, Mom #1 is serving her children kale chips, squeezing fresh lemons into their environmentally friendly drinking vessels, and you’re pretty sure you just saw her rub coconut oil on a fresh playground scrape.

On your left, Mom #2 is running in place, and repeatedly checking her Fitbit. She looks like she’s never missed a gym day, even at nine months pregnant, and her jogging stroller probably costs more than your car. You hear her yell to one of her Under Armour sporting children, “What’s that, Beckham? The soccer balls are in the back of the van! Don’t forget to grab your Gatorade! Replenish those electrolytes!”

Straight ahead, Mom #3 is parked on a bench, nose deep in her phone, tapping the baby swing with her toe to keep it moving. You’re not even mad at this, you’re impressed. Could this be it? The one you’ve been looking for? Just then, another phone wielding mom moves in. You can tell they’re already friends by the way they don’t even greet each other. They just start showing each other phone content, and giggling.

Then you spot her. There in the distance. Mom #4 has more kids than arms. She’s rocking black leggings, a messy bun, and sunglasses, even though it’s cloudy. You see her reach into her hoody pouch and pull out a hand-full of Goldfish, then distribute them to her offspring. From inside a stroller, a baby throws a pacifier onto the mulch covered ground. #4 picks it up, wipes it on her leggings, and tosses back.

It’s time to make your move.

“Hey Kids! Let’s head over to the big slide.”

“But, Mom. There are people over there.”

You think, “That’s my boy,” but say “I know, it’s fine. Come on.”

Your troop trudges to the big slide area, and unloads onto a nearby bench. Now it’s time to make your move. You casually smile in her direction. She smiles back. Quick, say something cool.

“Coffee, am I right?” as you lift up your travel cup filled with the only way you know how to survive.

“Yeah, totally.” She mirrors your motion with an iced DD coffee.

Good start. This is it. She’s the one.

*Side note: I am every one of these moms. It’s easy to look at a mom from the outside and think you have her pegged, but we are all so much more than just kale chips and Fitbits. I am Mom #1 when I smear brown, thick organic sunscreen on my kids. I predominately wear Under Armour, so I probably look like Sporty Spice and Mom #2. And Instagram isn’t going to swipe itself, so I’ll be scrolling through the feed when I have a spare minute, like #3.

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