Every September, wherever I am, in whatever climate and in whatever state of employment or unemployment I may be, I always feel that back-to-school feeling. This September feels different — and I realized it today. Last year, returning to Brussels after a glorious holiday spent with friends and family in the States and in Italy, I came back to the lonely world of motherhood and no friends. I’m not saying that to welcome a pity party: it was the honest truth. I remember hanging out at the playground, a year ago around now, and wondering if I’d ever make a friend or two with a child my son’s age. I was the wallflower on the bench, wondering if anyone might actually want to ask me — or my son — out for a playdate.
It took a few months and, in a year’s time, it has happened. Through coffee mornings, park pick-ups, and generally being open to strangers, I have met an extraordinary group of mothers with children my son’s age. Today, Luca and I sauntered over to the playground to meet up with some of them. En route, another dear friend called and agreed to meet up with us there. The longer we stayed, the more friends trickled into the outdoor classroom of slides and swings. It felt great to greet the moms and their children as old friends (knowing someone in Brussels for a year is a long time). And I found myself looking out for my friends’ children on the jungle gym just as much as I was keeping an eye on my own son. I noticed they were doing the same for me. It felt good and it felt right to be back.
We moan here about the weather because it’s an easy, easy target. You can count on rain in Belgium as much as you can count on sun in Italy. Nevermind that we spent most of August in Italy and had only one afternoon of rain. Here, we devour sporadic sun rays, always ready to drop what we’re doing inside and race outside to make sure we get the most out of what the ambiguous sky can offer. I can’t let forecasts or early morning impressions alter a day’s plan. If there’s a torrential storm, I waver and often resort to staying inside. But drizzling or light rain will not keep me — or my child or dog — from spending time outside. We’re often rewarded with a sunny interval for our perseverance.
Today was proof of the theory. When I drew the curtains early this morning, the sky looked ominous. But I bundled up my babe and we headed to the park. There, we met up with other ruthless mothers and friends, my gaggle of girls, my gang of friends and those of my son’s, too. As always, it felt like an accomplisment in itself to get out of the house. We stripped off layers, and shook our heads at the quirky weather of this city. The kids played, and fought, and even nibbled on each other a bit in trying moments of sharing and not really sharing. A year ago, I would have been extremely apologetic to the fellow mothers. They were then new friends, afterall. But, now, we all share a history — of a year spent struggling as new mothers in a new city trying to make new friends. And we’ve done it: in the rain, and even in the sun, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying. But, most of all, we’ve done it together. It’s great to be back at school in Brussels where the playground is our classroom. As for the crappy weather: we’ve decided to fight it with rain gear. A cute outfit always helps for singing in the rain. And splashing in puddles en masse is the max.
