I can sum up about 90% of my thoughts using Def Leppard lyrics. The other 10% of my thoughts are vulgar words and if my boys in Def Leppard would have just had the foresight to add “fuck face” to any of their songs, it truly would have enhanced their universal appeal. A tragedy, really.
I have had many different kinds of crushes throughout the ages. Here is a quick summary:
- My first crush was on Brian Murphy in first grade. I named my Cabbage Patch Kid after him, because I thought he was the perfect baby daddy. And he was. We made out in the coat room a lot and he provided many cookies from his lunch box.
- When I was seven I had a crush on Showbiz Pizza (now Chuck E Cheese). My parents avoided that place like the plague, so I kissed the asses of all the kids who were likely to throw Showbiz parties and I would just sit in the ball pit and pretend it was my bed, ignoring the other children, but doing just enough with the birthday kid to get invited back the next year. Glorious!!
- When I was about ten I had a crush on the George Michael part of Wham! that was only exacerbated when my beloved George came out with the “Faith” album. I heart you so much George – I would have totally looked out for the cops if you wanted to jerk off in a public bathroom near me. You only had to ask.
- Junior high/high school I had a crush on Donnie Wahlberg (more on that here) from NKOTB, and I wasn’t even doing drugs at that time. I was just really lame and underdeveloped emotionally, physically and socially. I’m not sure if any of that has changed.
- Next came my crush on McDonalds Value Meal #2. It persists to this day. I wish I knew how to quit you, Quarter Pounder with Cheese.
- Then I fell in adult love with Oprah, although I thought this new season might be the beginning of the end for us because it was so lame….until Mackenzie Phillips came on today to talk about having sex with her dad. Whaaaaaaat?! Oprah, we’re totally back together. We’re rock solid.
So I’m familiar with having crushes on a wide variety people, places and things. However, I wasn’t prepared emotionally or socially when my first ever, only ever, mom crush happened. Yeah. I met a real, live woman that made me want to start a commune and blend our families together for all time. Which, for me, is about as likely as Whitney Houston or Mackenzie Phillips actually staying sober for another three months.
I have trouble forming relationships with other women. Because I don’t like them, for the most part. I’m a guy’s girl. Always have been. And that did not change with the onset of motherhood. I avoid play dates and moms groups like the plague. Because they necessarily involve other mothers. The “good” mothers. Not the slackers like me. Okay, so I’ve never been in one of them, but I just imagine this gaggle of women in mom jeans and sparkly Christmas sweaters with shit hanging off them with socks that match and have jingle bells on them throwing around organic homemade baby food recipes and sign languaging things to their pre-verbal infants who are all named Madison and Jackson (Personally, I think more kids should be named Washington and Lincoln). Honestly, I’d rather participate in a sex toy party with my mother in law than be in any way involved in a moms group. Yeah. And that’s saying a lot.
So you might imagine my shock and awe when I met another woman I wanted to schedule a standing playdate from 9am to 5pm every Saturday and Sunday with her and her family. Husbands too. When you have a mom crush, you spend your days looking dreamily out the window fantasizing about family trips to Disney World together, impromptu BBQs where everyone is dressed in J.Crew and laughing happily with dazzling white teeth, unicorns and rainbows and happy, cherubic leprechauns (not the scary kind) dancing around pots of gold and eating Lucky Charms, as we plan arranged marriages between our children. It’s like finding true love, only family style.
I met her online. Yeah, how 2002 of me, right? So I was researching a new daycare place for my son and I posted an inquiry on a parents group forum to see if anybody had kids there and had anything to say about it. Kirsten replied. Ah, Kirsten. The woman who would turn my world on its very axis. She responds and says she is starting her son there soon and suggested we talk on the phone. Now you should know that I avoid the phone wherever and whenever possible. Phones = work = boredom = soul suckage = depression. So I will do just about anything to avoid talking on the phone when it isn’t required for my job. I tried to make excuses about my phone being broken and reception being bad, but finally I agreed to the call because this was about my kid’s health and safety, so it was worth making an exception, ONCE. But I was fully prepared to be talking to a psycho or a SuperMom and I vowed that if I heard even the slightest little tinkle out of a jingle bell on her socks in the background I was hanging up immediately.
So with much trepidation, I dialed her number. And we talked for a few minutes and she was…super cool. Inexplicably, I felt an immediate connection. Kind of like the first time I ate a Take 5 bar – the most important invention in the last 50 years. Yes, just like that delicious, magnificent candy treat, Kirsten was perfect for me. She wasn’t one of THEM (the “good” mothers). I mean, she seemed like a good mother, but not the kind that has to remind you all the time that you aren’t as good as she is, because she has already figured out how to get her 6 month old into the gifted program at the $20,000/year preschool. We talked for a full 15 minutes about this whole daycare thing and not once did I feel inferior, or bored, or confused.
I think she was listening for a tinkle of a jingle bell from me too. I could tell that she was relieved I wasn’t a psycho and babbling about all the Mommy and Me classes I don’t take my son to. I was working toward my PhD at the time and she actually worked at the same university in a different department. We were both worried about grant money and our research and our careers and our kids. So we talked for an hour and then the conversation ended and as we were hanging up, I wanted to giggle and whisper, “No, schmoopie! You hang up first!” because I knew I had just met my soul mate mom. Surely since she was the only stranger mother I ever found tolerable, her family and my family were destined to be together forever. Because she was a mom like me. We could totally sit around sipping on a really good Cab and make fun of people together and talk about all the egotistical assholes at our respective work places and our deep thoughts on celebrities and new movies and all the ups and downs of our careers and trying to be good moms in our own unique ways. She even watched Oprah. (I made sure to sprinkle in the “Oprah test” before I got too excited about our intertwined destinies. She TiVo’d it too.) I know! RIGHT?!
So we get off the phone and then things got really awkward in my head. I couldn’t let her get away!! She was the only woman in the universe who knew my soul. I mean, 60 minutes is enough time to figure that out right? It was imperative that we meet again. But I don’t do that stuff. I had never asked a mom out for a mom date or a play date or anything like that. I was a play date virgin! All the friends I have now I met when we were all young and fun and single and though many of us are mothers, I don’t think about them that way. I don’t know how to talk to strangers who are also moms that I want to be friends with. All. new. territory.
But I couldn’t let her slip away. Our impending friendship was all I could think about or concentrate on the whole week. I told everybody I knew (men) that I was in love with my future best friend. There were a lot of raised eyebrows and derisive little chortles. “You want to have a play date with someone you just met on the internet? HEE-larious!” They would chuckle a little more and shake their head and laugh, “You at a play date! God I’d love to see that!”
See, I’m not a normal mom. But I digress.
My thought process went as follows: Obviously, the only way to ensure that I see her again was to ensure my son went to that daycare! Then I could see her everyday and eventually our sons would be BFF and she and I would be BFF (we were already well on our way, right?!) and then our husbands would adore each other’s company and they would be BFF. I mean, everything would be right with the world. But…this is unfamiliar territory for me. I mean, does she like me as much as I like her? Did I sound as smart and cool to her as she did to me? Is she also currently daydreaming about being my BFF? Oh my God! Is she going to think I’m a closet lesbian? How do you ask a mom crush out on date? Should I ask her out for coffee? I don’t want to creep her out and I don’t want to sound desperate. We stayed on topic in our brief conversation. We didn’t have a whole schmoopie conversation about how we were destined to be together. We were just thinking it. Or was I the only one thinking of it? She probably had a million mom friends. Who has time for another? What would I wear on our first date, and where should it be, assuming I get the balls to ask her out on one? What if we met in person and we didn’t like each other as much? What if she was wearing a Christmas sweater? Would we have enough to talk about? The questions were endless.
But I’m a born salesperson. She was going to be my BFF and dammit, I was willing to do whatever it took to woo her into being my best mom friend of all time. It would just be a lot easier if she felt the same way. So I had to woo her. And she would be mine. Oh, yes! She would be mine. Am I creeping you out now? I’m creeping myself out.
Okay, so this is getting really long and I have ADD and you probably have a job to get back to. But in Part II, I will regale you with the full pursuit of my mom crush. It was exactly like pursuing a boy crush, except 1000 times more awkward and difficult. Stay tuned…