Mom Conversations

I had a great conversation with a friend the other day, before the end of the school year. She’s a gem of a person, super thoughtful and supportive and easy to talk to. We were standing on some grass, watching kids run relay races at Field Day, occasionally pausing our conversation to cheer them on. We were there as parent volunteers. I think the day would’ve carried on just fine had we not been there, but I’m glad we were.

She asked me how things are going. She knows all about Ben’s cancer journey, Alex’s sports, kid milestones and so on. She also knows I’m trying to write more, and I know she recently made a big job change. After getting through the life updates, we talked about what moms tend to talk to each other about and how a lot of those conversations are about our kids. We hardly talk about ourselves, our own lives. One will ask, “How are you?” and the other will answer with a story of what her kids are up to, and the first will nod as if this is the answer she expected and counter with what her kids are up to. Why do we do this?

Why do we hide behind our kids with the other women in our lives? We rarely talk about our own goals or aspirations. We rarely mention how difficult it is to keep it all moving, all the planning and activities and schedules. Yes, our kids are important, but we make ourselves into shadows behind them. 

There are moms I see regularly whom I don’t actually know at all. They don’t tell me about themselves. They tell me about their kids. They might not even notice they’re doing it. Or they want to keep me at a distance - can’t rule that out. No one owes me anything. It’s true that we don’t have to be friends with every person we come across. But we will trade stories about what our kids are up to, and we rarely wade into waters of our own feelings or hopes or frustrations. These are the loneliest “friendships” in the world. 

Because here’s the thing. I do not care what 9-year-olds are doing to pass the time. I don’t need to know the ins and outs of any other child’s activity schedule. I think moms might share these things as a call for help that no one heeds. “Let me list the 12 activities my kids are in and describe to you the hell that is shuttling them all over the tristate area while we make jokes about it on the sidelines of a soccer game,” actually means, “please help me - I’m slowly fading from my own existence.” 

I have no idea what dads talk about when it’s just them, but I feel like it’s probably work. Or hobbies. Or sports.These still aren’t conversations in which people are sharing feelings or the burden of being human, but at least it’s a little closer to an identity. Hell, I’d rather talk about sports. I know like a tiny bit about baseball. I know some rules of basketball… but I haven’t been following. I haven’t watched pro football in about a decade. So I can have some very specific conversations about sports! Let’s do this! Because the Mom Monolith feels impenetrable at times. I want to know what you’re reading. I want to know how you’re feeling about no longer having any time to yourself and maybe gripe about that myself. I want to know what you last did for fun that did not involve standing in someone’s yard watching/refereeing children playing. 

If it’s the case that moms are only talking about their kids to keep other moms at a distance, that feels like a lost opportunity. Maybe they already have sisters and best friends with whom they can share their feelings and deep stuff, but when we spend so much time around these parents, these moms on the sidelines and pick-up lines, they are actually the people we’re sharing our lives with. If for no other reason, we can try to support one another to impact our own mental health and self-talk. When all “small talk” is about kids, that gradually becomes all we think about, gradually shifts into a higher realm of importance. When grown adults are together, especially not directly in the presence of children, it would be great to take that as an opportunity to talk about things we don’t want to talk about around them. Right? 

What we talk about tends to shape what we think about, our internal life, to the point where if we spend our time talking about our kids, we might start to believe they are the most interesting things about us. And I hate to say it, but our kids are not us and vice versa. 

At some point, we need to assert that our kids are their own people, and their interests are their own. My older son spends several evenings a week plus lots of weekends swimming. I don’t talk to other moms about swimming. Swimming is not something I count among my interests. I am interested in my son, his progress, the fact that he’s having fun, but I am not suddenly an avid swim follower (minus Olympic years - then I am decidedly a swim fan). These can be separate. I am a soccer fan and will continue to be once my kids inevitably stop playing soccer. The two things aren’t inextricably connected. 

This is not to say I don’t fall into the trap as well. Worrying about my kids’ happiness and level of activity is a consistent pastime of mine. But since that conversation with my friend at Field Day, I don’t want to go back to the baseline of only talking about my kids with my mom friends. We are whole people with whole lives. We can let our conversations with one another reflect it.