Playgroups Are Dead
A book excerpt from writer, Ashley Fenker
When I entered motherhood, I was excited about many things—the baby of course, but also happy to meet my people. You know my new mom friends who would be my mom's friends for life. Nothing against my already existing friends, who are wonderful, but this would be that special cohort that would be encountering the maternal transformation alongside me and preferably in the same zip code. I had been told that these new friends would gather from early on, and we would grow together alongside our babies. But it didn’t quite shake out that way. Don’t get me wrong; I did meet some really lovely people, but the dream of a big group of people I expected never fully manifested, mainly due to the busyness and constraints of modern life. So, when this week’s guest author suggested the below excerpt from her new book for A Wonderful Mess readers, I responded with an enthusiastic yes.
Let’s welcome,
into the mess. Ashley is the author of the new release, Good (Enough) Mother: Stories and Essays, which ranked #1 Top New Release on Amazon and was distinguished as a recipient of Awards & Accolades from Kirkus Reviews. Her articles and essays have appeared in O, The Oprah Magazine, Upworthy, HuffPost, HelloGiggles, Fathom Magazine, Scary Mommy, Coffee + Crumbs, and more. Ashley writes a Substack called Write My Story, a newsletter about the craft of writing personal stories & living a life worth remembering. She has documented her publishing journey in a podcast series called Path to Published.
My mother talks about her playgroup of the ’90s like a cult. When I became a mother, lost in the haze of sleepless nights and postpartum depression, my mom started saying things like, “Oh, you’ve GOT to find a playgroup! They will change your life. They will save you.”
When I was born in 1989, my mom worked as a teacher. She was 25 years old and worked at an elementary school with other budding young adults who married young (the norm of those times) and started popping out babies. Extroverted, bubbly elementary school teachers who yearned for motherhood and loved a day filled with loud songs and clapping and lots and lots of crafts.
They clicked. As the story goes, they become lifelong friends after gathering their babies weekly on plaid slip-covered couches in sponge-painted living rooms decorated with roosters.
When my son was born in 2022, I worked as a freelance writer. I started freelancing full-time in 2018, dreaming of a life as a wife and a mother who had “flexibility” in her work life. (Every self-employed writer is laughing and nodding right now at my grand disillusionment that “writing for yourself” and “being your own boss” would instantly bring freedom.) At the time, I was single. Well, to be precise, I had just gone on a first date with my now-husband and announced, “I just gave my two weeks notice!” He was terrified. I was elated.
Fast forward, we were married in less than a year. Many assumed it was a shotgun wedding. It wasn’t. Here I was, married and working as a full-time writer. The dream! And yet, those years between 2018 and 2022 when I dreamed of being a mom while freelancing were some of the darkest of my life. I felt loneliness like I never had before. Mind you, I never admitted that I started my own business to be a mom. Who is bold enough to say that out loud as a single woman who had battled chronic illness since I was 14 and had doctors tell me that they weren’t totally sure if my body could handle pregnancy?
So here I was, FINALLY pushing my baby in his stroller, going for my daily walk down our windy wooded lane. I made as many trips up and down as my recovering swollen legs could handle. My best friend and I joked that my post-preeclampsia legs could have been featured on TLC’s My 600-Pound Life. She has pictures to prove it. I pushed my son, praying he’d fall asleep, while listening to podcasts, mostly of moms chatting about motherhood who felt like my friends, but some about creativity as I fantasized of a life where I would one day write again. My mom would call, interrupting my episode, and I’d click over and talk through my AirPods. Usually, I started crying, and my mom would always respond, “You’ve GOT to find a playgroup. My playgroup was the BEST thing that ever happened to me.”
Was a playgroup leader just going to knock on my door in the middle of the woods, past the dairy farm and the fields of corn, and invite me to join?
First of all, we don’t all have babies in our early-to-mid-20s anymore. Anything goes these days. Next, we aren’t all teachers. I know that’s not actually true of my mom’s generation either, but it sure does feel like women had fewer options for careers when she went through this. And AMEN for progress, Women! Thirdly, it’s critical to know that the school system offered a leave of absence for two years per child to spend time raising your children. The time wasn’t paid, but your job was guaranteed when you returned to work. Many teachers still have this benefit, but most other professions don’t offer this. You are either a working mom who takes a few weeks off, maybe a few months unpaid if you’re lucky, or you’re a stay-at-home mom. My identity in motherhood has felt deeply blurred because I don’t fit into either of those camps.
Remember that “flexibility” I craved as a full-time writer? It’s flawed. When “flexibility” turns into the default parent responsible for all doctors’ appointments and sick days and household chores while you attempt to work in the cracks of your day, the system is flawed.
Where’s the playgroup of moms who want to stay with their kids sometimes, but then need quiet solitude to feel like a whole human? Where’s the playgroup of women like me who deeply desire motherhood, but also, deeply desire space and creativity that doesn’t involve sensory bins and Legos and singing songs about icky-sticky-sticky-sticky bubble gum?
I go to a fitness class with local moms while my son’s in daycare part-time (a later addition to help relieve the flawed freedom of freelancing). Does this count as my “playgroup”? I started a book club with other women, some moms and some not. It’s after bedtime, and kids aren’t invited. Is this my “playgroup?” I should also note that in both of these groups, it’s a different set of women every time I attend because life now is too busy to commit to something regularly.
Not to mention (although I’m about to mention it), kids get sick All. The. Time. This has been my biggest lesson learned as a new mom, especially one who threw her kid into the land of germ-infested daycare. I’ve been trying to schedule a playdate with a friend from high school for literally months. Between her three kids and my one kid, it’s nearly impossible. Someone is always coughing or snotting.
I started writing a Substack called Stuff Moms Google. Maybe that’s the modern version of ’90s playgroups—Google searches and online forums and Facebook groups and Instagram scrolls of momfluencers. At my core, I hate this for us, but it feels true.
When my mom talks about her playgroup, she always says, “If I had a question about nursing or sleeping or teething, I just waited until the next playgroup to ask the girls.” Sure, they had telephones back then, but were they anxious enough to pick up the phone to find an immediate answer? Or did they learn to trust their intuition more than moms do today?
Can you even fathom waiting an entire WEEK to have your question answered?! If I have a question, first I start with Google. Then I move to group texts. I have access to several. Friends from childhood, cousins, friends I made as an adult, my mom, my aunts. I compare their answers with what I found on Google. If I’m totally stumped, I can leave a message for a nurse at my son’s pediatrician, and they generally call back within five minutes. My favorite is when a nurse calls me back about an oatmeal bath for a rash and she asks, “Well, did you Google it?”
In our age of connection, I feel incredibly disconnected at times. The answers are right there, instantly, but are they really? Am I losing my own internal compass, my natural ability to solve the problem with every online search?
Many days, I wish someone would plop me in a small town or an apartment building in the city and say, “Here, these are your people. And, look! You just so happened to all have babies at the same time! If you have questions about motherhood or life or anything at all, ask them. Live your ordinary lives together. They will help you become a ‘good mom.’ They will save you.”
This was an excerpt from Ashley’s new book, Good (Enough) Mother, which is available now wherever books are sold. Visit goodenoughmotherbook.com to learn more.
As always—Just a little reminder: The content on A Wonderful Mess posted by Dr. Kathryn Barbash, PsyD, is for educational and entertainment purposes only and is not intended to be a substitute for medical, clinical, legal, or professional advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Reliance on any information provided is solely at your own risk. Always seek the advice of your licensed mental health professional or other qualified health provider.
 | A guest post by
|
So happy to have Ashley in the mess! Thank you, Ashley!
Oh man, as someone who's struggling to freelance and write and mother all at the same time, boy do I feel SEEN. Thank you, Ashley for making me not feel so alone! And, it's been 3 years, still waiting for that playgroup leader to show up.