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Challenge: Stop Mom Judging

The Monica to my Rachel

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Welcome to Brentwood. The land of the fertile, the home of the babes. At any given time you will see roughly one dozen strollers being pushed by trendy new moms. And with one hand on the UPPAbaby and the other on their overpriced latte, they begin the daunting task of Mom-Friending. Yes. That just-like-dating experience we all go through when finding new friends who have also given birth. It’s all polite convo over formal coffee dates followed by wine-induced social media stalking.

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In hopes you’ll be a match.

In hopes that maybe, you’ll be F•R•I•E•N•D•S.

It can be frustrating. I know. Remember in middle school when you wanted to be all BFF with the cool girl but worried you didn’t have the right bell bottoms or platform sneakers? Well, its kind of like that. Except now it’s not just your nineties wardrobe that’s under scrutiny. It’s your parenting style, whether or not your kids are dairy-free, how long you breastfed, if their clothes are organic, how trendy you are, and the way in which you discipline.

But I wish it didn’t have to be like this.

I wish we could just move past all the formalities so I can finally meet the Monica to my Rachel. Who am I kidding? I wash my vacuum. I’m totally Monica. But still, I want my person. The one that will answer my texts right away without caring if it’s too soon. Or worse, leave me on Read. The one who won’t judge me if I fed my son gluten. The one who will let me try on her clothes, a little drunk, and borrow earrings. Which I probably won’t return. The one I can complain to about this whole motherhood thing. And the one who lets her guard down long enough for me to see that middle-school girl who’s still in there. Who’s still nervous to make a new friend.

Yes, that one.

Listen, Momming is hard. But making Mom-Friends is harder. And it makes sense. After having kids, we are in our most vulnerable state. Our bodies have changed, our priorities have shifted, and we have already watched everything there is to see on Netflix. So to assume that we would all naturally come together as best friends at this pivotal point in our lives, when our pants barely fit, is a gross exaggeration. You see, we are so invested in our children and our parenting choices are so very personal that the act of letting someone in can be difficult.

Or damn near impossible.

So Momma, let’s take a second to stop being hard on each other, and more importantly, hard on ourselves. And when you’re out there searching for the Monica to your Rachel- remember this. That Mom in front of you getting coffee is just as nervous, just as tired of her pants not fitting, and just as eager to stalk you on social media.

In hopes you’ll be a match.

In hopes that maybe, you’ll be F•R•I•E•N•D•S.

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