Give It A Year

This past week, I celebrated the first anniversary of becoming a resident of Northern Westchester. So much has changed since that late October day that my husband, our dog, and my eight-month-pregnant self moved into our house.

Sirens vs. Snakes

Accustomed to the more crowded, noisy environs of New York City, I found the quiet unsettling. So was the wildlife.

From watching a coyote sauntering in the woods behind our house to finding a snake inside oI was at my wit’s end. One night, a shrieking sound reverberated through the house. I told my husband an animal was running loose. Once I had confirmed it wasn’t in our sleeping baby’s room, I shut myself into our bedroom and pulled the covers over my head. I told my husband to let me know when he found it. It turned out to be tree frogs in mating season.

Now that the fall is here, a beautiful deer family regularly visits and waves their ears hello to us. Some turkeys waddle through as if to say they are shuffling by before getting caught for Thanksgiving. I even seek out nature, going for walks at places like Gedney Park, Stone Barns, and Rockefeller State Park Preserve. These are all great refuges when you just need to get out with your baby and push that stroller around.

Taxis vs. Traverses

When I lived in the city, I hopped on the subway to get to most places or hailed the occasional cab. Essentially, I relied on someone else to be the agent of my transportation. The whole car thing was at the top of the list of things that daunted me about moving to Westchester, especially since it involved driving a baby around. Driving on the highway scared me. I was against parking of any kind (in lots between cars, parallel, in a garage). I was tasked with installing and properly using a car seat. Dreaded diaper changes in the back of the car loomed. Pretty much the only thing I liked about the car was that it had a free satellite radio trial including a station that played solely 80’s music.

Now that a year has passed, I am a proficient highway driver, jumping on the Taconic or the Sprain without hesitation. Nothing stops me from parking in the lot at Target in Mount Kisco when I need Aquaphor or diapers or that amazing trail mix they sell. I’ve installed two car seats. Finally, I am an expert at those backseat poop diaper changes. My son keeps me current – I think he holds it in until he knows we’re going somewhere just to keep my skills at their peak level.

Martinis vs. Mommy & Me

Before I became a mother, I had friends from many different contexts; college, graduate school, work, book clubs, and random nights out, just as a few examples. I did what I wanted whenever I wanted. My relationships were based on many diverse experiences, points of view, and types of support.

As a new mother living in the suburbs, I felt extremely isolated and nervous to begin making friends – and I really needed some.

When my son was a few months old, I ventured out to try to meet mom friends. I had a lot of bad dates, as well as dates with moms that I liked who ghosted me. I went to playgroups and meetups and music classes and awkward setups. Some of these yielded budding friendships but most resulted in me feeling shy and flustered. And some led to possibly getting my son off-schedule in favor of having just one more conversation that might lead to a genuine connection.

People kept telling me that friendships would come in time, to take it slow and let things happen organically. I would “yes” them but still keep trying so hard. It wasn’t until I became exhausted by all this “dating” and just stopped altogether that things started to come together – slowly. It was then that I started truly connecting with other mothers. They had things about them that geniuinely appealed to me. Things besides the fact that they, too, had recently housed another person inside of them and had chosen to raise this person in the suburbs. These connections were made by a combination of slowly unfurling the details about our lives combined with occasional moments of vulnerability about shared experiences.

A year later I can say that I have a few mom friends who seem to really be that – friends. Of course I would like more and I am hopeful that these relationships will deepen. But I am a lot better off than I was a year ago.

Me vs. Mom-me

Someone told me to give it a year. As an official Westchester mom, I am passing this advice on to whoever I can.

Can you relate? Comment below!