The Great Divide
Written By Judy Gold
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Friendships change when you have kids. One comic's tragic tale.
I'll never forget visiting my friend Susan after her eldest was born. She was the first of my friends to have a child. Her apartment was a mess. There were rattles, blocks, and binkies everywhere, and this weird crustiness on the kitchen table. The sofa had a sheet over it and Susan's blouse was stained. As I tried to spill my guts about my most recent hypochondriacal escapade, I kept getting interrupted -- by a crying baby, a spilled bottle, a smelly diaper -- right when I got to the part about the results of the unnecessary biopsy.
At the time, I thought, "What happened to Ms. Perfect with the immaculate apartment? I'm never going to let my apartment get like this. And what happened to my friend, the good listener? When I have kids, I'm going to be so much different than her."
Well, you can guess the outcome of those thoughts.
People without kids just don't get it. I know. I was one of them. It's like being war buddies -- you can't relate unless you've been there. The exhaustion, the ruined dinner plans, the public tantrums, the money, I mean the no money … But then there's the unconditional love -- that no matter what I do or say, they still adore me -- and the hope that they will grow up and pluck out my chin hairs while I'm drooling at the Hebrew Home for the Aged.
I hate it when my friends who have no kids tell me how tired and stressed they are. Stressed? Try fielding calls from the school nurse's office while you're in the middle of an important audition. (I'm not being mean; my older son can be a bit of a hypochondriac. I have no idea where he gets that.) Admittedly, sometimes my friends and I play this game called, "What would we be doing right now if we didn't have kids?" The game is most depressing on Sundays. I mean Saturday mornings, no wait, Friday nights.
Here's the twist, though: Having kids has actually improved my social circle. Some of my best friends now are parents I met at day care, Hebrew school, soccer, or the playground. We hang out while the kids are in the other room destroying everything. We commiserate about all sorts of parenting issues, teachers, other parents, and of course, our kids. It's nice having friends who get it.
Type 1: "I love kids and I'm really close to my nieces and nephews." These are people who act like they love kids, but actually want nothing to do with them. Here's a message left on my answering machine the other night: "Hey Judy! We're having an impromptu dinner party followed by a game of Texas hold ‘em. We really want you and Elysa to come. No kids."
Okay, first of all, there is no "impromptu" when you have kids. Do they think I'm living in The Courtship of Eddie's Father and I have someone at my beck and call ready to take the kids whenever I want to do something? And do they honestly think I need to be told, "No kids"? So, wait, we're going to eat dinner, drink alcohol, and gamble, and you don't want my kids there? Why not? That would be so much fun for everyone.
