Nice to Meet You

After having 2 children a year apart, (Yes, you read that correctly, 12 months!), my husband and I decided it was time to pack up our crowded apartment, which was stuffed beyond limit with baby paraphernalia, and head to our dream house in the suburbs. I had visions of my new neighbors greeting us on moving day with homemade chocolate chip cookies and flowers, inviting us to join them for family barbeques and games of bridge. My neighborhood was filled with cul-de-sacs, lemonade stands, and children riding bikes. After 2 weeks, though, I had not yet met any of my neighbors. I had met, however, several local nannies who were busy dutifully pushing cute babies in jog strollers along our windy sidewalks.

One sunny afternoon, I had my daughters outside with me running around on the front lawn, when a hunter green Chevy Suburban slowly drove around the bend. Down rolled the tinted window and a pretty woman with long dark hair shouted over to me, “Hi, do you live here?” We ran to the top of the driveway to say hello. The woman introduced herself as The Working Mother, who lived around the corner at the top of the hill, and had 3 kids of her own. She was very friendly, perfectly fit, and dressed in a cute tennis outfit. Her nails were glistening with a fresh new French manicure. I noticed that she had 3 empty carseats strategically strapped into the back of her truck. And, her front seats were stuffed with shopping bags from Neiman Marcus. As she methodically applied a new coat of lipstick, she started to ask a lot of questions. She wanted to know when we moved in, where we were from, what did we do - all the usual questions that a neighbor would like to know about the “new family” on the block. And then, after viewing my two very young children, who were busy decorating her shiny clean car with sticky little handprints, she raised an eyebrow and asked me the critical question, “Do you have help?”

At first I was not quite sure what she meant. Did I have help with what? Then it dawned on me, she wanted to know if I had anyone to help me watch the kids. A babysitter, a nanny, a parent who lived nearby… anyone!

“No”, I replied, “it’s just me at home with my kids.”

The Working Mother looked at me with a stunned and confused expression. Then, she said she had to go as she was late for a school board meeting. She invited us to come over to her house to meet her kids, and set up a “playdate” with her nanny. She cheerily bid us goodbye, and then sped off.

I did not have help, but I definitely needed it! I think it had been days since I had washed my hair, and the only make up that I had on was chapstick. My clothes showed traces of baby spit-up and yellow child-friendly paint. I am sure I had black circles under my eyes from lack of sleep. Why would I sleep? I took pride in myself as a The Stay-at-Home Mom, who has never had a baby nurse, and would never dream of letting someone give a bottle of formula to my exclusively breast-fed children. The Working Mother looked rested and put together. Not a hair was out of place. We were both stay-at-home moms, so why was she so together and I was falling apart? The answer is simple – The Working Mother had help. She had a nanny to help her out with the kids and everyday chores. She actually had time to shower and wash her hair, play tennis, and drive around listening to her radio station of choice, without a car full of screaming children shouting for her to put on their favorite Barney portable DVD. By having help, she has an extra set of hands to help manage a full house. Am I missing something here?