We have lived in our house 9 years this September. When we first moved into this subdivision we did not go out of our way to make friends with the neighbors. We were one of the youngest couples on the block so when the flyer came around announcing the upcoming block party with a subtext inviting everyone to bring their kids and get to know one another, we immediately felt like the oddballs because we did not have kids yet. I pictured us standing around the punch bowl on the outskirts of conversations about poopy diapers and sleepless nights while we desperately attempted to add our two cents: “Yeah, our dogs woke us up early this morning….we’re beat.” The day of the block party arrived and we pulled our car into the garage and immediately shut the garage door behind us. “Do you think anyone saw us?” I stammered.
Flash forward almost 9 years. We now have 3 children and gone are the days of being anti-social. Tyler glanced out the window yesterday and saw the kids across the street, ages 5 and 3, riding their big wheels and asked if we could invite them over to play. I panicked. This was the first time my 4 year old showed any interest in a “play date” and I didn’t want to let the opportunity slip away. I quickly glanced around our messy house, grateful that it was a nice day outside and we could ask them to play in the backyard. The backyard. My husband was planning to mow the lawn later that afternoon and the thought of the kids trotting through our amazon jungle of overgrown spring grass had me reconsidering. “Come on, Mom, they’re going back inside, we have to hurry!” OK, OK, let’s go ask them.
I tentatively approached their dad who was working on some landscaping. “Hi, um, I was, well, Tyler was wondering if the kids wanted to come play in our backyard?” Why the heck was I so nervous? I felt like I was dating again. What was the protocol for initiating a date….a playdate that is? Did I have him sign a waiver, what if he said no, was I supposed to provide a snack? I hadn’t had time to prepare. “You guys want to play in Tyler’s backyard?” he asked. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited anxiously for their answer. “Sure,” they said abandoning their big wheels and walking over to the curb where they waited for an adult to tell them it was OK to cross the street. Oh, wait, that was me. “Look both ways, kids” I instructed a little too loudly so their dad was assured that I was a responsible parent. Then we headed off in the direction of our backyard. I remembered only too late that we hadn’t discussed when I would bring them back but as I turned around I realized that their dad was gone, probably relishing in his new-found freedom. Oh well. I opened the gate to the back yard and the kids immediately headed for the playhouse, the one thing that separated our house from the others on the block. My dad and my uncle had built it for us when I was pregnant with my second child and I was proud to have something exciting for the kids to do. “It’s really messy in here,” the older neighbor boy said. Crash and burn. The 3 year old girl wanted to play in our sand box so I removed the cover and then quickly started picking out the leaves that must have flown in last fall—she didn’t notice or at least she wasn’t as vocal as her brother about the mess.
All in all the kids had fun and as I walked the neighbors back to their front door and said our goodbyes I wondered if I should wait the obligatory three days before asking them over again. After all, we didn’t want to seem too desperate. As I returned home I made a mental note to give the backyard a makeover now that we were “dating.”
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