Misfits as Mothers I was talking with a girlfriend the other day about how we really don't fit in. It doesn't work. Even when other moms or new people try to be kind and invite us along to things, we feel a bit awkward and find ourselves wondering why we're there. But then, of course, we get lonely, and we need to be around other moms now that our kids are getting older. (My kid isn't even two yet; her older child is 4, I think.) It's kind of a catch-22. On one hand, we go to the parks and see all of these mommies sitting on blankets together, having fun, but on the other hand, we're just flat-out not very good at making "friends" with people ... um, how do I phrase this ... about whom we don't care one zot. I KNEW that I was going to mangle the grammar on that one. Ha! I REVEL in it. Zot went in there to balance things out. Since I live in a country where the New York Times now prints things like "There's many reasons why ..." (sound of shot cowboy screaming as he falls off a cliff), I should just give it up, but I can't. At any rate, my husband calls them "smoker's conversations." The conversations that smokers, banished to outside of buildings all over the place, manage to have with one another. Moms do that also. On the other hand, you need to know things as a mom, and who better to teach you than other moms? I tend to make friends with people I like who turn out to be total, 100% flakes and constantly blow me off. Darn it.