So I’m sitting cross-legged in my bed with my brand spankin’ new mac book, feeling all Carrie Bradshaw. And as I wait for that voice inside my head to start narrating this column, my son awakes with a nosebleed and I rush to his side, careful not to wake his younger brother sleeping next to him. Meanwhile I awake from my Sex in the City daydream into my suburban reality I am no longer that single twenty-something reflecting on life with my girlfriends while having lunch at some chic café rather I am that married thirty-something commiserating with my fellow-mamas while watching our kids at the playground.
After comforting my son, I’m back in the room alone with my thoughts for once. But it is 2 am and I am tired and my legs are cramping. So I close the (mac) book, knowing that somewhere else another mom is ending her tiring day at 2am, leg cramps, waking babies etc. This is just the way it is.
I do miss lunches and those coffee chats because all I can hope for now is chik-fil-a and starbucks if I am lucky. We clutch our coffee cups as we watch our kids or wait for them at karate, soccer or whatever. Is this what ladies lunches have been reduced to?