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“I have to start dating again!” I wailed to my husband. It’s probably closer to the truth to say that my 3-year-old and I were going to have to start dating again.

At this moment, one of my closest local mom friends, Katie, is packing up and readying her family to move to Wisconsin. Katie and I go on weekly walks together, cart our toddlers to music class and park dates, and fit in what other socializing we can. With Katie, I could always count on a sympathetic and nonjudgmental ear about all things. But now she’s leaving me for the Midwest. To make matters worse, Kristen, the other mom friend I completely adore and have been fast friends with since pregnancy, is also moving out of state.

In Katie and Kristen, I found the sort of kinship in which I felt comfortable expressing any and all concerns or stresses about my son and motherhood. With the busy schedules we each maintain on not enough hours in the day, finding moms you really click with on a parenting as well as a friendship level can be fairly difficult. Maybe you like each other, but your kids don’t get along. Or maybe your kids are great friends, but you have nothing in common with her. Or your kids are different ages, which matters much more than I ever would have thought.

Neither Katie nor Kristen has even left me yet, but I’m already mourning their loss and desperately casting about for replacements. I employed this strategy with crushes throughout high school. There would be my primary crush, but there would also be two or three backup crushes so that in the event of a breakup, I’d instantly have another romantic target to daydream about and take the sting out of being dumped.



A few weeks later, my son and I were driving off for a “first date” with another mom and her two girls. Our kids had hit it off so well in a new music class that at the end of one session, I fingered my business cards in my purse. I was all primed to give her my e-mail address at what I judged to be precisely the right moment. I was going for breezy and relaxed, not desperate and needy. Impatient, Bug grabbed a fistful of my cards, and trotted over to the other mom with them. There’s nothing like a toddler for timing.

Rushing around the house to get ready for our first date at a park, I felt so buoyed by the adrenaline of anticipation that I had to dump out the rest of my coffee. No need to be that jittery and motor-mouthed on this first outing.

Deciding what to wear was of paramount importance, of course, and I will admit to trying on several outfits before being satisfied. I was going for a look that wasn’t too cute or too dressed up (because impeccably put-together moms are off-putting), but also avoided boring or sloppy. My makeup application followed a similar line of thinking — restrained and natural, but enough to keep the haggards at bay.

I wondered if our age gap would end up being a problem, compatibility-wise. Seven years my junior, she is just one year older than my baby sister. When she graduated from college, I had already been married for over two years. But I’ve since realized that when you have kids, it’s no longer your age that matters. Who cares if you didn’t both watch “90210” in high school when you can both Netflix it now? Far more significant is the age of your kids and whether or not they are in sync with one another, because that alone gives you a lot of common ground and endless conversation fodder. It’s a lucky bonus if you discover you also have other shared interests. In fact, with her two kids, my new mom-friend is older than me in terms of motherhood experience. Especially since her first girl is six months older than my son, which seems to give her a wise window into what I can expect down the rocky toddler road.

As it turned out, the chatter never lagged, and we had a fabulous time at the park. The kids played amazingly well together, giving us time to talk and find out all sorts of things we had in common. Books, television and our obsessive love of our pets and of foggy, dark days were significant points of interest. (Later, I would learn that she also loved Ioan Gruffudd, tawny port, “Friday Night Lights,” “Hart of Dixie” and other things that would prompt me to call her my doppelgänger.) The date was a huge success … right up until my son took his first major spill on a playground and got a mouthful of wood chips and sand. He tried to rally during snacks, but it was clear that his sunny mood was killed by the slightly split lip. Poor kid.

That night, I got a sweet e-mail from her checking in on how my son was doing and sending hugs from her and her girls. It was the equivalent of a postdate “I’m still thinking about you” check-in. In my response, I told her that despite his painful fall ending his park play, Bug announced, “I love Lila,” during the car ride home. This was significant, not only because it was the first time he had said he loved a nonfamily member, but also because it’s just been recent days that he’s been saying it voluntarily at all.

“You played the love card too early!” my husband teased me the next day when I didn’t hear back from her. Lord help me, but I had the same thought! Did I come on too strong? Was I a bit too keen? By now I was calling her Mom Crush on Twitter and tweeting ecstatically about our new friendship.

The next music class arrived, and as soon as her littlest saw my son come in the door, she toddled up and embraced him solemnly. My son was slightly surprised, but then he bent his head to her tiny 17-month-old shoulder and hugged her back. Clearly, there was enough smitten to go around, so I told her that my husband had joked about an arranged marriage between the kids.

“… And THEN she started quoting Jane Austen from the Lady Catherine de Bourgh scene, Mom!” I told my mom on the phone that night. “Oh, she sounds just lovely, Honey!” my mom said. That’s right, I called my mother to tell her about my new mom-friend.

Meanwhile, Mom Crush and I went on second and third dates with our kids, and have now exchanged books and many e-mails, and set standing appointments to go on early-morning weekend walks without the kids.

I’m considering making her a mix tape.