CHAPTER 1: PLAYDATE PANDEMONIUM

 

‘Play date!’ A concept I was no stranger to. All thanks to my two year stint in Washington DC. One of the easiest ways to get your little one to make  new friends while slowly building your very own social circle. So I was only more than happy when one of the ladies next door introduced me to a mommy and me playgroup. Voila! A way to keep my little one entertained and my ticket to making some new friends.

Playgroups or this particular one I was introduced to here were a tad bit different from the ones I was used to back in DC.  While the ones in the US needed to be planned and noted down at least weeks prior, in ones calendar  and included a child being dropped off and picked up just a few hours later, these once were fixed, recurring and way way more elaborate. Every Tuesdays & Thursdays, a group of 7-8 ladies along with their helpers and minimum of 2-3 toddlers per mom, taking the toll to a shocking 32 members, met up in a designated house apparently decided by a specific and well-drawn out roster. And that was not the only extensive part, the menu drawn out to feed these tiny-tots itself were more elaborate than I had ever seen in any birthday party back in the US, where a plain margarita pizza and few cupcakes were all that one needed for an epic birthday bash. But not here amidst the elite expat housewives. 

The long teak dining tables were adorned with home-baked butter croissants, freshly baked banana muffins, extensive fruit bouquets cos apparently just dumping it all in a bowl is so bourgeois and star shaped blueberry pancakes (coz God forbid if you serve them in the cliched circle-shape). I felt glad that I still had a few weeks before my shipment arrived. ‘Enough time to master the art of baking, learn to create at least one fruit bouquet and skillfully organize the perfect play date, Yangon style! I would do just fine.’ Or so I thought. 

Now I will be honest, one of the main reasons why I even decided to be a part of this playgroup despite my (then) 6 year old constantly reminding me that she was way too old to be hanging around with a bunch of three year olds was coz I was desperate to make friends. After moving three locations, I was well aware that it was the only way to survive any posting.  Now you would think that since you are meeting these women every Tuesday and Thursday, a total of 8 times in a month and 92 times if you take a year (More time than I spent with my parents annually), you would assume it would soon blossom into some kind of a meaningful friendship where we will all become besties and form some kind of an unbreakable bond of sisterhood and what not. This was going to be magical and ‘oh-so easy’ especially for me cos I was good at making friends. If I could make lifetime friendships with complete strangers while waiting for my train at the metro station or on the road walking to my daughter’s school in a place like DC, charming these Myanmar ladies was going to be a piece of cake. Well not quite!

Despite our frequent rendezvous I was amazed that our conversations barely went beyond how was your day to are you liking Yangon and the tedious air kisses* (*the art of kissing someone without touching mainly to avoid smudging of makeup. More on it in the following chapters). I doubt if anyone even knew which part of India I belonged to and how I pronounced my full name. There were also times when it was only me, a bunch of nannies and whiny toddlers at these playdates as the moms were busy with other social commitments. 

It was in one of these occasions, the very first playdate pandemonium erupted. The Tingyan holidays were on and many had travelled to their home countries for the long ten-day break. I being a complete playdate amateur assumed since there was hardly anyone here, I wouldn't have to host the playdate although the name in the weekly roster, had mine written on it in bold letters. I conveniently cancelled and decided to take my kid to the pool instead. When I returned what awaited me was an array of Whatsapp messages from one particular mom, the only one apart from me that hadn't gone away for the holidays, telling me how I had not followed the roster and that it was extremely impolite of me to have cancelled at such short notice. The email didn’t end there. Somehow I had hurt her three year olds feelings as the little one was so looking forward to it all week to visit her Aunty Ash and what not. I could have sworn that the kid barely recognized me when I saw her cycling just the previous day and is it even possible for a three year old to know exactly what day of the week it is and that it is her so-called Aunty Ash’s turn to host when she can barely tell her alphabets apart? Boy! That kid sure must be some kind of a genius if u ask me. Anyway after a few really shallow apologies…(my one stop solution to get out of any dramatic situation) we air-kissed our way through this little bump and moved on.

The second drama unfolded rather soon, courtesy me, yet again, when I  decided to add a few friends of my daughters age to the playgroup. If  I was going to go through all the trouble of frying pakoras and baking cookies and hosting playdates for kids my girl hardly even played with, it was only fair that I add a few of her real friends. So that’s what I did and our group got a little bigger with the addition of a few 6 year olds. Now remember the roster, the one that thou shall not dishonor, come what may. Apparently following the changes, the moms designated in the first place to uphold its integrity, slowly decided to back out from their hosting responsibilities. Now don’t get me all wrong, they still ended up coming to every single one hosted by me, devouring my aalo samosas and savory pakoras with the same intensity and vigor. They simply refused to host when it was their turn. Now I had upgraded from being a playdate amateur to a more permanent member or even a veteran to some extend and when you are amongst a handful of the newly added moms hosting every Tuesday and Thursday, it gets a bit much. 

So I too send out the mandatory email calling on the other non-hosting pakora-devouring moms asking them to host as well. And that’s what lead to playdate pandemonium number 2 aka the grand finale. What followed was a series of never-ending chain mails. Some suggesting that they though absolutely unemployed till only the previous week had somehow, all of a sudden become bombarded with way too many social commitments leaving them with absolutely no time to host the little munchkins and others complaining that their 4 bedroom luxurious villas in the estate were way too small to host the 6 year olds. To cut a long dramatic email short, the group was split. The little ones & mommy group and the 6 year olds & Mommy stinker group. And out went my dream of forming long-lasting bonds, friendships to last a lifetime and what not. In short what a utterly and complete waste of my bread pakoras…

CHAPTER 2 (Coming soon)...THE MOMZILLA