Mile a Minute

I have been meeting with basically the same group of lovely women and their children for a weekly playgroup for about 4 years. Or longer, I just know my oldest was crawling. Or wasn't crawling yet. Or should have been crawling according to some developmental chart and I probably obsessed over it and talked and talked and talked to them about it.

Today I talked a lot. About happy things, troublesome things, funny things. Things maybe I should not have verbalized because it resulted in a bit of a rambling rant about being teased on the school bus in 1988. Our conversations need no segues; we can be discussing kitchen remodeling ideas and transition seamlessly to what kind of underwear someone likes the best (for children and adults) all the while getting snacks for the kids and mediating any preschool-aged scuffles that may arise.

I need this time. I assume all the other women do too, because they keep coming every week despite what dirty laundry one of us may have aired over Pirate's Booty and coffee the previous week, or how many toys were strewn through their homes. Today I belly laughed twice. I can't recall what was said that made me laugh so hard, but I'm thankful it was said. I kept putting off our departure. At one point the topic of conversation had moved to toilets and toilet seats, and who can just up and leave during that debate?

I do a lot of listening too, but today I was particularly loquacious. But that is okay, next week someone else will talk more than I do about something, and we will laugh, give advice, take advice, probably gossip a little (I lie, that is going to happen for sure) and have more Pirate's Booty.

See you next week ladies!