Play dates are not for the kids, they are for the moms.
This is no secret. I’m not saying anything we don’t already know here. But let me specify why they are for the moms.
Play dates occur not so we moms can get a “break”, as if one more adult somehow relieves us of our duties. We are still out numbered. Not only that, but if we’re at the park, my head is on a swivel looking for approaching pedophiles and pitbulls. And I am also more vigilant than I would be alone because deep down I’m afraid my kid might punch yours, which would not be totally out of character. But I digress. Note, the play date is not so we can vent. Its not for the Starbucks, although that is a perk.
The play date happens so we don’t lose our adult vocabulary. This is a huge, secret concern for stay at home moms. That we start to sound like toddlers after awhile.
You know the expression, “use it or lose it”? That shit is for real. And its not in reference to the second language you speak, or your knowledge of historical events and their corresponding dates. Its for your first language. Use it or lose it.
I mention this because, when you’re talking to two year-olds all day, something happens to your vocabulary. The words don’t come as easily when you transition at night to an adult conversation about ISIS and ongoing conflict in the Middle East.
Moms have to plan secret meetings with other moms, where there is a pretense of “oh, we’re watching the children play, we’re socializing them”- but we’re really practicing our words.
So don't hate on the play date and think we’re lame homemaker moms talking about breast pumps and potty training. We’re quizzing each other on geography, you jerks. We have our dictionary apps out on our phones, and we’re looking shit up.
We are well aware that being around two year-olds is dumbing us down in the long run. I took an inventory of my speech yesterday and now in reflection, can confirm my hypothesis that the majority of what comes out of my mouth daily, are sounds. Not words, but noises.
As in, animal noises. Alien noises. Truck noises.
My kids aren't even old enough to know what an alien is, what. am. I. doing.
All day I make sounds and give short directions. Mix in some positive affirmation, some reprimands. “Good job!” “Don’t touch that, please. Please. Please. Please God.” I am becoming less intelligent by the minute. If not for play dates, I would probably need to start preschool in the fall with my twins. A real, live mommy-and-me class. We will learn the English language together.
No thanks, I will take a play date tutoring-sesh with my girlfriend. We will come out of the valley-low IQ ranks together, one coffee at a time. Our kids might fall off the play structure, or punch each other while we are remembering our old vocabularies, but sacrifices must be made (I'll still fight off pitfalls and pedophiles, don't worry).
I am a college grad! It seems so long ago, but I am, I swear. I will not go back to pre-school.
