Hepcat got
a job, Harried Harriet is seeing a new man, Tall and Lanky’s house
renovation was dragging on, and the war in Iraq entered its fourth year.
Sounds like it was time for a “Mommy Dinner.”
Easier said than done.
“Mommy Dinners” are tricky to arrange, thanks to everyone’s
byte-filled Palm Pilots. Organizing such a dinner depends on the tenacity
and persistence of at least one member of the mommy dinner group.
For this one, Brainy Lawyer took on the task: “Let’s pick a
few dates and see what works for most of us.”
“Wednesday works for me,” Smartmom replied. “I don’t
mind missing ‘American Idol.’”
But that wasn’t going to work.
“That whole week is all bad for me,” e-mailed Tall and Lanky.
“Because of the renovation, we are still camping out at the in-laws
in Manhattan. Is it possible to do the following week?”
Brainy Lawyer proposed a date for the following week.
“Don’t mean to be a problem, but could we possibly meet on the
next Wednesday,” wrote Tall and Lanky. “My husband is out and
my sitters are not available.”
Groan.
Finally, a date was settled on. Harried Harriet even invited everyone
over for drinks before dinner until she realized that she wasn’t
even free that night. She sent out this apologetic missive by e-mail:
“You must kick me to the curb, throw me under the bus and meet without
me. I had my dates wrong. Today was crazy so I guess I was in no shape
to operate heavy machinery or make dinner dates with my dearest, oldest
friends…”
Dearest and oldest friends. Smartmom paused and thought about how one
phrase could describe her relationship to women she met just seven years
ago at the Two Day Twos orientation meeting at Beth Elohim. The parents
sat in a circle on small classroom chairs as Perky Pre-School Teacher
told them: “Look around you. There is a very good chance that you
are going to know one another for a long time,” she said.
At the time, Smartmom rolled her eyes. And even though some of her first
impressions of these women were wrong and some were more or less right,
Perky was absolutely on the money: these people would become great friends.
Once a “Mommy Dinner” date was set, a restaurant had to be selected.
Restaurant reviews were considered. Zagats was consulted. Budgetary concerns
were cited. Allergies, diets, likes and dislikes. Finally, after checking
Go-Brooklyn.com (the definitive Brooklyn dining site), Little Dishes,
the new brick-lined South Slope restaurant that serves “American
style meze,” was selected.
Phew.
Smartmom doesn’t remember who originally came up with the idea for
the “Mommy Dinners” but over the years they have evolved into
a treasured night away from husbands and children. At the first dinner,
the talk was mostly about kids, school, and teachers — lots of talk
about kids, school, and teachers.
But over time, the moms became more intimate and shared stories about
their lives and what was really on their minds. Eventually, they compared
childhoods, couple’s counselors and colonoscopies (over pasta. Yum!).
In addition to being gabathons, the “Mommy Dinners” have also
been a short history of the restaurant boom in Brooklyn. Pre-Y2K, there
was barely anywhere to eat on Fifth Avenue — now it’s stuffed
to the gills with restaurants.
Much has changed since that first “Mommy Dinner” in ways big
and small. There have been disappointments and divorce, money woes, problems
with the kids and the inevitable: trying to figure out what to do when
mothering wasn’t enough anymore.
There have also been new careers, new homes, and new babies. September
11th happened the day before pre-school started, and the group shared
that experience like it has everything else.
At Little Dishes last week, the first order of business was, of course,
the drink order. “Red or white?” asked ABD (All But Dissertation),
looking studiously at the wine list.
Next up: a discussion of Harried Harriet, who was not in attendance. “OK,
has anyone met her new man?” someone asked. Harried Harriet separated
from her husband more than four years ago, and works hard to support herself
and her daughter. Now, she has met someone new.
“He’s great,” Smartmom assured the group. “He’s
a really, really good guy.”
Then it was Smartmom’s turn, sharing her relief about Hepcat’s
new job at the Edgy Startup.
After they placed their orders — lamb shank for ADB, who is also
a part-time foodie, and hanger steak very rare for Brainy Lawyer —
Tall and Lanky lamented the travails of her recent house renovation. ABD
and Smartmom, both of whom suffer from acute house envy, elbowed each
other discreetly and smirked.
Then Brainy Lawyer, a compulsive reader of the New York Times, steered
the conversation toward the third anniversary of the Iraq War. “Can
you believe it?” she said. “This has got to end.”
A discussion of Tall and Lanky’s stress-inducing, hyper-achievers’
book group (no Oprah’s book list for those girls) transitioned into
a frank appraisal of the incoming rabbi at Garfield Temple.
Smartmoom jotted some notes on a piece of paper. “You are NOT going
to put that in your COLUMN,” commanded ABD.
“Of course not,” Smartmom smiled.
At evening’s end, the four squeezed into an Eastern Car Service car.
The women were tired, but reluctant to end the evening.
“We should do this again in about a month,” Brainy Lawyer said.
“But I’m not going to plan it this time,” she said with
unconcealed resentment.
No one wanted to take on that job. Just yet.
But as sure as PS 321 needs more classroom space, Smartmom and her pals
are going to need another “Mommy Dinner” soon.
