Play Dates

I have always disliked the term "play date." I've been trying to remember what we used when I was a kid to explain a time when friends got together to play and I am pretty sure we simply called it "having a friend over to play." I suppose "play date" is easier and more efficient, but I still don't like it. It conjures up too many images of Prada wearing Yuppie Moms, Blackberry planners, and over-priced lattes at some park in some city somewhere.

But whatever way you call it, my kids are both engaged in said activity as I type. Vivi's schoolmate, Lucie, is here and Bohdan was picked up a little bit ago to play at his friend, Jules' house for the afternoon. I am left here realizing this is the first time this sort of meeting has taken place in their lives. Sure, I've babysat friends' kids before, but that was the impetus for the children to be together. Never have my kids set up a time to play with a friend that resulted in one child being left in the care of another child's mom. It is a subtle difference, but it is different and the effects of this are less subtle than you would think.

Because Bo & Vivi's play times with other children have always included the moms, I have made some amazing friends based on the time spent giving the kids a chance to hang out. Family friends are created in this context, instead of individual ones. This fact leaves me feeling mildly frustrated right now. I could be participating in my own "play date" if either of the mom's who extended these invitations today had included us adults in the equation. Instead I find myself once again with my laptop, putting off the countless chores I could be doing by ruminating on my aloneness.

Another affect which I hope doesn't present itself as an issue today, is that of child care. When I am with my friends and their children in the US, if there is a problem with any child, the parent is there to address it immediately, the way they see fit. Whether the problem is a scraped knee, a hurt feeling, or an inappropriate behavior, no adult is left trying to figure out how to handle a situation without "parental consent." I could very easily fall into the "what-if" game right now as my imagination skirts around all the possible scenarios Bo could find himself in at someone else's house, without me, with people who don't speak English. Will they do the right thing? Will he be monitored at all? If he needs reprimanding, will he even understand? What if he needs something? I know people keep referring to us as a "brave and courageous family" but I'm beginning to wonder if "senseless" might be a better label? What parent throws their kid into a cavernous unknown zone like that?

I guess we do.

In reality, Bo seemed completely fine with the idea. Excited to the point of being willing to completely overlook a coughing cold that had him up during the night, he left smiling with an "I know, Mom" retort to my reminder of "no electronic games." It should be no surprise to me to see once again that I am the neurotic one.

And Vivi and Lucie are playing, albeit ridiculously quietly for two 6 year old girls, upstairs in Vivi's room bedecked with Polly Pockets and Barbies. Somethings just transcend the language barriers. I need to work on discovering the adult equivalents so I can have a "play date" of my own someday soon. My best guess is "cafe," so I'm taking it upon myself to learn to like it, anyway it gets served, so I can make my own friends, too.

But maybe I'll stick a couple of Vivi's Polly Pockets in my purse, just in case.