Breaking up Is Hard To Do

my heart hurts

It is a tragic time for the Toxic Household: I have recently learned that Mr. C and I are being dumped.

The playgroup we formed two years ago never really became a big thing.  Most members came a few times, perhaps invited new members who came once or twice, requested to be kept in the loop for playdates, but eventually were never heard from again. 

And, OK, I felt a little like I wasn’t important enough to these women to be a permanent fixture in their lives.  But I recognized that the playgroup was always supposed to be informal, anyway.  And, really, it didn’t matter: I was important enough to attract one regular mom and kid who joined Mr. C and me nearly every week.  We became a pretty good foursome, actually, meeting at parks or playplaces or each others’ houses every Wednesday at 10 a.m. (later switched to Fridays at noon) (in case you cared).  So I couldn’t be that unworthy.

I liked this other mother, Gwen.  Excepting for the fact that she is gorgeous and incredibly fit and much cooler than me, we actually have a lot in common.  We both have teenaged stepsons; we got married one month apart; our toddlers’ birthdays are one month apart; and we both had bought homes when we were single that we were now slumlording out.  Oh, plus the tiny kismet fact that her stepson shares the same name as my son.

Our kids got along alright, too (except that her kid is reluctant to share some of his toys and my kid once locked hers in the tool shed).  I’ve been lucky that our children have been too young to truly care who their friends are, which means I can strongly persuade Mr. C that he likes playdates with Gwen’s son, in particular, because then I get to hang out with someone I actually enjoy talking to.  I dread the day Mr. C becomes friends with someone whose mother I don’t care about but towards whom I can now no longer act superior.

Our last few months of playdates have been particularly fantastic for two reasons: the boys are finally old enough to climb play structures on their own (no more contorting myself down the kids’ slide with my toddler on my lap!) and the kids actually want to play with each other instead of just near each other.  As soon as we all meet up at the park, our kids take off together and Gwen and I are free to spend the next few hours gossiping.  Oh, and occasionally pretending to check on our hellions.

OK, so Gwen and I have never been the kind of friends who do things outside of playdates.  I’ve always wanted to, but we just never have.  (Again, she’s supercool, and has things like bar-hopping nights with another couple and monthly dinners with a large group of girlfriends.  All I have a farming class and a weekly solo outing to the cheapie theater.)  And we never swapped babysitting like I would have liked to: I offered to watch her kid several times, but her mom lives in town (hint hint, Mom), so my services were unnecessary.  And I knew she was working whenever I might have asked her to watch Mr. C.  But I liked to think of us as more than just acquaintances.

And now she’d dumping me.  Gwen just got a full-time job, so will no longer be able to make our Friday (previously Wednesday) (in case you forgot) playdates. 

She’s happy to have the job, but not quite ready to be away from her kid so much yet.  I assure her it’ll be good for them both, when all I really want to do is ask her why she’s abandoning me. 

She worries that she’ll get bitchy because she’ll have less time to take for herself.  I help her find the holes in her schedule that she can use to her ‘free-time’ advantage, when all I really want to do is ask her why she’d abandoning me. 

She frets that she’ll be a worse mommy because she won’t be able to be on top of things as much.  I point out that being aware of her fears is the first step towards keeping them from happening, when all I really want to do is demand she tell me why she’s abandoning me.

Yesterday was our last playdate.  We sat in the shade and watched our kids frolic in the wading pool.  I brought a rhubarb cake I’d made and lit some candles in honor of Gwen’s birthday next week.  We talked and joked and sometimes just sat in silence.  We parted with smiles and fervent wishes for the success of each others’ summers.  We promised that we’d keep seeing each other; we’d get our kids together some weekend, or maybe for an evening outing or two.

But I fear it's over.  If we never saw each other outside of Fridays at noon (or Wednesdays at 10) before she had a full-time job, why should I expect we'll do so now?  She’ll spend her evenings de-stressing and her weekends with her family; she won’t have time for unnecessary playdates. 

I know I’m not giving our friendship the benefit of the doubt.  But what can I say?  That’s how the rejection of a break up affects me.

And I am absolutely crushed.