When you have a baby, you are immediately and without question inducted into the unofficial "Mom Club." It's crazy. It's like moms can spot each other from a mile away. Recognition is usually unspoken...like a glance in your direction as your child is screaming incessantly in the grocery store or a sympathizing grin as you exit a restaurant to change an enormous blowout. A look like, "I totally get you and what you're going through, honey." As a mom, we immediately have something to talk about, no matter our differences.
It is weird to compare motherhood to a car, but here it goes. The Mom Club reminds me a lot of the Jeep Wrangler Club. When I was 16, my mom bought a Jeep Wrangler. It was so cute, white body with a tan hard top and big tires, the Sahara edition. A teenager's dream and absolutely perfect for navigating those mountainous Western North Carolina roads. Sadly, my mom got it for herself and not for me. Occasionally, though, I would get to drive it. I found that I, all of a sudden, noticed a lot of Wranglers on the road. They seemed to be everywhere. (Of course, they were everywhere in the mountains.) And they all gave each other a head nod or a simple wave. Some sort of acknowledgment that indicated, hey...we are cool, we drive Jeeps too, welcome to the club. Very similar to the acknowledgment that moms give each other.
In Josh's pre-baby days, he was a member of a club too. The Motorcycle Club. Even without being a motorist myself, I have definitely noticed the presence of this one. The members flock together.
I love this. There should be more "clubs" to help strangers relate to one another and connect on what could be the one and only thing they have in common. I am a loud and proud member of the Mom Club.