First date

Jitters

The school break has started, the sun is shining after a wet week, and the streets of Amsterdam are full of people setting up for Koningsdag. The Bug has HEMA oranje tompouce clips in her hair, the first of many orange accessories we will pull out over the weekend.

I just spent 20 minutes trying on different outfits, my red comme si poplin pants with a white t-shirt, then a different t-shirt, then a different pair of pants, then a sweater. I finally landed on my favorite pair of AYR jeans and a grey COS tshirt and came out to ask Dylan:

“Does this outfit give cool but not trying too hard but also I can play with the girls on the floor but also not frumpy?” He affirmed that it did give all of those things.

I’m going on my first playdate today.

We’ve got a fabulous community of friends here and back in the USA, but I was the first out of almost all of my close friends to get pregnant. Everything I read in pregnancy emphasized the importance of finding parent friends as you entered this new stage of your life - the books reminded you that your friendships with non-parent friends would still remain, but would be different, and that there was something crucial about building a support system in a similar stage of life to you who LIVE NEAR YOU.

My friend Jess, who has a four year old and lives in Amsterdam West to my Amsterdam East, says you need someone nearby that you can go to the playground with on a summer afternoon and split a bottle of wine while your kids play.

(Nadia, one of my best friends, did get pregnant 18 weeks after me, which was amazing, but up until literally today lived as far away from me as anyone can live from each other in Amsterdam. Luckily, today is moving day, and we’re now an 8 minute bike ride away.)

Important to note: this is not a comment on my friendships with people who don’t have kids, because I think the idea that you stop being friends with people without kids is really dumb, and has not been my experience at all. The Bug has aunts and uncles who love her an overwhelming amount, and those have been people who have carried Dylan and I through the last 2 years.

And yet.

When I was pregnant, we signed up for English speaking birthing classes and breastfeeding classes, sure that we’d meet some kindred spirits who would partner with us every step of the way as we raised our children together. Instead, we had odd people in our class and had literally no desire to chat with any of them at all.

I ran into an old acquaintance in my neighborhood when I was pregnant, and found out she was also pregnant, and tried to join a little gang of ladies in Amsterdam Oost who were all due within six weeks of each other, but I never felt like I clicked with them outside of the fact that we all pushed a human out of our bodies around the same time.

In the early days of postpartum, I felt unbelievably supported by friends all over the world who did not have kids, but who immediately loved mine so so much. But I also noticed that I felt a different kind of relief when Jess, who was at the time a friend and colleague but not a close friend, would text me with a hyper specific joke about postpartum life that made me feel slightly less insane. She knew the things that felt too raw for me to say out loud, and had the gift of time that allowed her to say them out loud, and in doing so validated me and made me feel less alone.

Toddlerdom has pushed this desire for connection with other parents to the forefront of my brain. When the Bug was more chill, i.e. unable to walk, it was easy to include her in our plans. She is now a tornado of energy, and we spend most of our days with her figuring out how to entertain her.

There’s a fabulous playground in our neighborhood that we frequent, and it’s here that Dylan and I started flirting with other parents. We listen out for British, Australian and South African accents, hoping to hear someone speaking to their kid in English so we don’t have to admit how bad our Dutch still is. We notice who brings beers to the playground at 5:00 pm on a Friday, and who gives them judgey looks (and then we avoid those people).

I tried my hand first when I noticed a lovely British mum with a daughter around the Bug’s age playing in the sand. I threw her tentative smiles, and bribed my daughter with the promise of bananas to leave the swings and investigate some digging near this other child. I eavesdropped on what she said to her daughter while they played, hoping I could naturally make a comment to start up a conversation. I scooted closer and closer to where they were sitting under the premise of sun in my eyes.

Does it sound like I was stalking them? I was. She noticed. She did not engage.

Dylan had more luck with a couple, American and Dutch, who have a daughter six months older than the Bug. He ran into them a few times at the playground and a local cafe, to the point where the girls started recognizing each other. Somehow, every time he saw them I was not with him, so I reminded him to mention how cool his wife was so they’d start to like me too.

Yes, I am aware I sound desperate.

Last week, the Bug and I were meandering Frankendel park on an overcast day when she waved at a child I didn’t recognize. It turned out to be this little girl with her parents! The mom and I immediately hit it off as the girls played. They lived around the corner! Conversation flowed easily between us! An hour flew by!

As they were getting ready to leave, she looked at me and said, “look, you’re American too so I’m just going to be straight with you: can I have your number, and please can we be friends?”

When I tell you my heart fluttered like a teenager getting a snapchat from their crush!!!!

We made plans for a playdate, and I have been giddily nervous all week. I want her to think I’m great! I want us to have similar parenting vibes! I want her daughter to like mine!

Friendship dating is nerve wracking. Parent friendship dating feels even moreso! It’s like, I want us to be aligned as people, but also in the way we’re going to raise these tiny humans. What if she casually mentions that she thinks vaccines are fake? What if she doesn’t believe in telling her kid no? What if she won’t give her child any food that she didn’t make herself with 110% organic products? What if the Bug pulls every one of the books off of their bookshelf and she doesn’t think it’s cute but gets annoyed? What if her kid doesn’t have so many boogers that it makes her parents call her “Boogers McGee” and sing songs about it?

I’m so nervous - it’s been a while since I went on a first date. I hope she likes me.

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What I’m Reading

• I finished the final book in Ferrante’s “Neapolitan Novels” series, The Story of the Lost Child. I absolutely loved this series and couldn’t recommend it more. The audiobook narration was really compelling.

• angel cake
  referenced this Blake poem in her most recent piece and I’ve been thinking about it all week.

  “Eternity”

  He who binds to himself a joy
  Does the winged life destroy
  He who kisses the joy as it flies
  Lives in eternity's sunrise

What I’m Loving

• I had the best birthday week of all time. April has felt really tough for a myriad of reasons, but I was reminded how loved I am this week. My parents came over here: we saw the tulips, the Bug was showered with love, and they gave us their hotel room and stayed at ours one night so we could have a fabulous dinner that started way too late. My birthday party was so fun, and the Domino’s I ate while tipsy with my fabulous husband was delicious.

  

  Dyl made me a blackberry basil gin cocktail for my birthday happy hour!

  

  Room service coffee and croissants is the height of luxury

  

  Yes I DID thrift a brand new Burberry trench coat on my birthday weekend why do you ask??

  

  

  Is it even your birthday if you don’t immediately wear everything you were gifted

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  The Bug basically didn’t leave Oma and Opa’s arms the whole weekend.