Just in case there is any question about whether or not the parks around here are tuly devoid of mommies, I’ll provide some proof. Here are some pics of a recent trip that Sam and I took. Do you see anyone else? Didn’t think so.

To entertain himself, because you can only swing for so long, and slide the car down the slide for so long, and stare at Mommy for so long, he decided to clean things up a bit. I won’t tell you how long he spent crawling around looking for acorns (and one twig), but I think you’ll get the picture. Find an acorn, hold it up to show Mommy excaiming, “ichsh,” (”this”?), hand it to Mommy who throws it over the fence, move on to the next acorn as Mommy tries to stop baby from scraping up his little knees.

And now you know how we spend our days. Unfortunately we may have many more like this. Yesterday was our first playgroup with “the club” (and yes, I was kidding about the various duct tape items I was meant to bring - that was my little hazing joke. Sorry it didn’t come across in the writing) and I’m a little worried. Let’s just say between Sam’s screaming and sobbing because he was scared to death of one of the other babies that kept screaming at him, it was kind of hard to get involved in the various conversations about flashcards for babies and which gym classes would be better to accelerate motor development…oh yeah, and which preschools would start taking kids as early as 18 months. I know, I’m being a snob, and I’m supposed to be all about refraining from judgment of other moms because we all need support and motherhood is our common bond and blah blah blah, but I am also not exaggerating - these were the topics covered, the very ones I JUST took issue with in a very recent post.

And I don’t know if it was so much that I was judging them, because seriously I was just trying to soothe my sobbing son who has NEVER cried like that, or if I just felt really out of place so now I’m lashing out. Regardless, I think it was Kate who used the term “kindred spirit” recently; I’m pretty sure mine wasn’t there. It probably doesn’t help matters that I was dressed like an adolescent boy. I had just decided I was going to be myself since if I had to put on a little show I wouldn’t really end up being friends with the people there anyway. Meeting people who are “like you” when “you” are a really liberal and fairly crunchy mom disguised as a 9th grade skater is hard. There’s another playgroup tomorrow. I’ll try again.

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Desperate times call for desperate measures…and I’m officially desperate. Since moving here things have not been going well on the social front. Sam and I have been the only living humans on the playground pretty much daily. I have made phone call after phone call to parent child centers and community centers where no one returns my calls, several nursing groups to find out that they disbanded over a year ago (why they still have a listing in the paper I have no idea), and multiple music/gym classes to find out they are either too far away or right smack in the middle of naptime. Since moving here I have had exactly 3 conversations with other moms, 3 different moms, each lasting roughly 3 minutes, with the exception of one. One lone mom actually took the time to talk to me, answer my questions, and give me her email address, ultimately convincing me to join my first. ever. club.

Among the failed phone calls, empty parks, the super fun stroller-cise classes , people who want to charge me money just to come and sit at their house for 45 minutes while they “facilitated” discussion, and the deserted book clubs, I had also sent out a few emails to a club for moms that had a listing in the free paper I picked up. After a few days went by I was sure nothing would come of that just like everything else, but on day 5 I received an email back from a very helpful woman who had been out of town. She told me about the upcoming events this club had and said I could come by and see what I thought before joining. So after some difficulty in finding a time that worked (yet again everything takes place at 10:00 when Sam naps) I settled on a park day meeting one afternoon the following week. When the day came I received an email from my contact saying that she would not be able to be at the park that day because she had an ultrasound, but that she had sent out an email to the group telling anyone who was going to be there to look out for me.

As I approached the park, for the first time since moving here, I was walking toward other moms. Let me rephrase that: I was walking toward a mom. There was one woman there at the swings with her baby, who looked to be about 8 months old. As I came up to the gate the woman greeted me and asked if I was Sam’s mom. She had me at hello, dude. She had me at hello. Never mind the fact that this is supposed to be a club and there was only one person there. One person is 100% more person than I have seen at any swing at any park so far.

She told me about the club, the message board, the activities. All of it sounded pretty good. And it sounded like it would be really helpful for a person who just moved here because I can post questions on the message board asking about doctors and babysitters and so forth. They meet at parks, have playgroups for different age groups, a book club, a mom’s night out once a month, lots of stuff. And so, I joined my little club. I paid my twenty dollar membership fee and bought myself some friends. Please understand, I am not a club/organization/sorority/institution type a gal. I’ve always felt a bit of disdain for any type of group that included the special some and excluded most others. It’s just not my style. In fact, I specifically sought out a college that had absolutely no fraternities or sororities of any kind. I just didn’t want to be in a place where people segregated themselves by choice. And my feelings about this have grown exponentially since becoming a mom because we need all the support we can get, (some of you may remember me yelling about this at length in the Middle School of Mommyhood .)

I guess I feel like this situation is a bit different because there was no process by which I had to be chosen. I chose them and then gave them my twenty smackers. So if anyone who has twenty bucks to spend each year can join, I feel like this is pretty inclusive. I like that they do at least some work for the community and seem to be very supportive of each other, particularly when a woman has just given birth – I saw a sign-up thing for women to take meals to the new mom’s house. So I feel like this might be a good thing. Touche to me. Or maybe I am just rationalizing this because I’ve just paid money to have the opportunity to meet people. Don’t care. I’m happy. I’m in the club. And as I said before, desperate times.

But does anyone think it’s weird that they told me to bring some duct tape, a swim cap, and several jars of honey to my first meeting? They said that traditionally they like to give new members a nice, warm welcome…:)

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So I think that 80’s Sunday is going to have to take a summer hiatus. I knew this might be the case last week when I felt a bit of relief that I didn’t need to stop our packing to do it, but I figured it was just because we were busy so I didn’t feel I had the time. But then yesterday I felt a little pang of stress when I realized I had to get everything together for an 80’s Sunday the next day. Part of the problem is that with the new video thing it is much more time consuming and to a certain extent requires Hubby’s assistance. But Hubby is studying for the Bar exam and there is no way I am going to bother him when he is studying to come and do some video of Sam staring blankly. And then there’s the downloading and uploading and posting and it’s all just very computery, which, for me, is sometimes difficult, particularly when doing it while watching Sam. I’ll also be out of town with Sam the week before the Bar and then away again with Hubby and Sam the week after. So the next month was going to be scattered at best. Anyway, blah blah blah. I think the kicker was feeling a little stress about it, because we all know that’s not why we blog. So I’ll see if I feel the impetus to start it up again in the fall. For all I know I’ll start it again when we get back from the second trip in August. And I apologize to any of you that are crying, longing to hear that unknown 80’s riff playing in the background while Sam eats Cheerios on your screen.

But we cannot forget our second time winner, you guessed it, that Crazy MamaD, who blew everyone away with her Little Red Corvette guess 2 weeks ago. Congrats to Mama D, who I assume will still be doing her “Say What” game on Fridays where you get to guess an 80’s movie from a quote. So be sure to go there to get your 80’s weekend fix.

And she’s got a new profile pic for your viewing pleasure.

I feel bad doing this with no warning. I can’t get the whole video thing together right now, but I will at least leave you with some obscure lyrics to ponder. I also remember vowing to stump you guys, so I can’t possibly admit defeat so easily. So here are some lyrics for ya. Let’s see just how good you guys really are.

I see your face every time I dream
On every page, every magazine
So wild so free so far from me
You’re all I want, my fantasy
Oh!
Look what you’ve done to this rock ‘n’ roll clown

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The airplane full of passengers, after hurtling through the atmosphere in flames, comes to a screeching halt just a few feet over a baseball diamond. Thank goodness, Lois is safe and Superman has saved the day again. The whole crowd is on its feet at this spectacle. When they realize what has taken place, that Superman is back, they burst into applause. Hubby and I burst into tears. We, like the audience at that baseball game, were so happy to see Superman again: “Thank goodness, I’m so glad he’s back. I’m so happy to be HERE, at a movie, with YOU.” This is only the second movie Hubby and I have seen since Sam was born, not including the 2 that we tried to take Sam to when he was younger because, well, they just don’t count. And we used to be a couple that would go to a movie and on the way out decide we wanted to see another. So it was a big deal to be at the theater, a few hours that made the trip to visit the in-laws well worth the travel in the car with the infant, even though the fireworks were cancelled.

And it’s not just that we got to see a movie, but we got to see Superman Returns. To be fair, it’s really not that great. But that’s not the point. That first action sequence makes it worth it, because I think for anyone of my generation we’re going to feel nothing but complete joy when we hear that music (yes, they keep the awesome music by John Williams) and feel that relief when we see that he’s done it yet again. We grew up with Superman, the amazing Christopher Reeve. We grew up with Star Wars, the original trilogy before all of the crap was added. We grew up with He-Man, Thundercats, Indiana Jones, and E.T., everyone’s favorite extra-terrestrial. What will Sam grow up with? Who will his heroes be? When he is about to turn 30, who will return to make him think, “Thank goodness, I’m so glad he’s back in my life again – I really missed him”?

It makes me sad. I want my son to have all the things I had growing up. I really feel like our generation benefited from a fabulous burst on the scenes of Hollywood just as we were getting old enough to appreciate it. Some of what we had as children has become a quintessential part of our culture today. There are moments from these films that still will give you the chills when seen again. Just watch Elliot riding his bicycle at that beautiful moment before they lift off the ground and you’ll know what I am talking about. Elmo, Dora, Sponge Bob for goodness sake! They just aren’t comparable. And I realize that to Sam they will be totally and completely comparable. And I suppose that to some extent one could argue that Harry Potter and the Lord of the Rings Trilogy are comparable. But…well…I want Sam to love what I loved I guess. I want him to see Star Wars and realize how amazing it was for its time, not be distracted by what he considers to be poor special effects. I want him to feel the joy that his father and I had as children from seeing something new and loving it innocently, without cynicism or criticism.

I want Sam to be able to enjoy the world in which I grew up, and I am starting to be afraid that he can’t. What if we can’t find a house in a neighborhood where it is safe for him to go out on his bike for hours with his friends? Do kids even get to do that anymore, leave for the afternoon and be free and independent? Or is the world already too dangerous, too scary? I don’t want to raise my child to be afraid of the world, but…I just don’t know…if I can.

On the drive home today Hubby and I were talking about Kim Jong-Il developing nuclear weapons and my gut reaction was, “Oh my God, what if something happens to our planet before Sam gets to live his life?” I can’t even bring myself to watch Gore’s movie, An Inconvenient Truth because I already feel so amazingly powerless when it comes to the fact that I know we are destroying our world. I don’t want to be afraid, but it is so much, SO MUCH harder now that I have him. I have no control. Who will save the world for my baby? Even Superman can’t stand up to the radioactive material from his home planet.

I don’t want my son to be afraid of the world, to lose his childhood to fear. I want Sam to play with his friends in the street without me watching him out the window every moment. I want him to have some clean air left to breathe, some fresh water to drink, some sunlight safely touching his face. I want for him to have some superheroes, both real and fictitious, in whom he can place his hope. And yes, I want him to have some truly awesome movies too.

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