Driven

I am not my mom.

I am not my mom, and so- I drive.

I drive them to playdates, to classes of an enrichment flavor- or of a social flavor…to places of adventure, to appointments they need to be at.  I drive them around, even though I am more of a homebody…because I am excited to let them sample the world, and because, when I was young,I knew better than to ask my parents to do so.

I’m also the “nice” mom.  So, it seems I do a disproportionate amount of driving.  And yet, I do it, because I want my kids to have that playdate…

Sometimes, a mom will understand, and offer to go ‘halves‘.  As in, I will Pick up Suzie for playdate and then her mom will come get her.  I like halvesies- I understand that we are all busy…working it out works for me.  But, I don’t usually get even halves.

The other day, a new friend could not make our beach date…but, her daughter was crushed- so, she asked, could I take little Annie with me?  Of course!  And then I asked for directions to her house.  No! Her mom insisted in dropping her off…and then, be-still-my-beating-heart!!…she insisted in picking her up later that day.

I decided then and there that this mom is my new best -ever- friend.

She’s from Norway.

I don’t know if that plays into the difference I found. But I like it.

I must learn how to say BFF in Dutch.