Confessions of a Mom Who Doesn’t Fit In with the Neighborhood Moms Anymore

When my two youngest kids were 3 and 5, my then-husband and I moved into a beautiful neighborhood with big oak trees and oversized yards. I'd wanted to live in this neighborhood for years. It was highly sought after and 'the place to be' in my piece of suburbia. So when a fixer-upper came onto the market in 2012, we jumped at the opportunity to buy it and renovate.

Though I didn't realize it at that time, this was also an outward attempt to keep a marriage together that was inwardly imploding.

---

Tucked into the back of this neighborhood was a cute little elementary school that all the kids in the neighborhood attended. My son was in Kindergarten at the time, and my daughter would eventually go to the same school and spend all of her elementary years there, too. So naturally, with the kids growing up together - the parents in the neighborhood got to know each other well.

Well, most of them , anyway.

After an exhausting struggle to keep our perfect family facade intact, my ex-husband and I separated less than two years after we moved in. I had no interest in keeping the too-big house with the too-big yard and the 40-year-old pipes that liked to burst in the ceilings unexpectedly. So I moved about 5 minutes away to an apartment complex. And my ex-husband stayed.

We settled on an amicable 50/50 custody arrangement with the kids spending one week with me then one week with him  - and throughout the years, we made the necessary sacrifices to ensure they stay at the same schools with the same friends. He's stayed in the house he doesn't really want anymore, and I've stayed in the same apartments so that their lives remain as intact as possible.

However with the new living arrangements, suddenly, I was the divorced mom who didn't live in the neighborhood anymore. I was no longer included in Friday night get-togethers, or the summer pool parties, or Sunday brunch gossip fests. I became the pariah mom and my ex-husband became the recipient of all the invitations, free meals, and fawning because he was the single Dad, obviously in need of saving.

---

Last night, my son  -  who is now a Freshman in high school  -  went to the homecoming dance. Before the dance, all of his friends met at a local milkshake bar that is a popular local hangout for teenagers. As I walked in with him, I found myself looking at all of his friends, whom I've known since they were 5 and 6, and marveling at how much they've all grown.

My heart was overflowing. I felt so proud that even though my ex and I were unable to salvage our marriage, we'd managed to provide our kids with stable lives and the ability to grow up with close friends.

Of course, I've seen these kids at birthday parties, sleepovers and other events throughout the years, however, to see them all together now was such a beautiful moment for me.

I realized as I was watching them, that the neighborhood moms were all there gathered at a table, gossiping in hushed voices  - most likely about me. I lifted my chin a bit, walked over to them and asked, "gosh, when did they all grow up so much?" Trying to hold my emotions in. They all looked sideways at each other and then at me and shook their heads in feigned acknowledgment and half-smiles.

How could I know, right? I was the divorced Mom. I no longer lived in the neighborhood. I had not been invited to anything for years.

I immediately felt the familiar sting of being an outsider. But I pulled up a chair and I sat near them anyway.

---

As I sat, watching the kids interact, I half-listened to the conversations of the moms. They talked about other parents and their personal situations.

They talked about their doting husbands, new cars, new houses (in the same neighborhood, of course), new pools, planned vacations.

They talked about their nails and where they get their hair done and all the same shallow things they spoke about years ago when they used to include me in their conversations.

They even made it clear they knew everything about my ex-husband's world  -  as if somehow validating that they had been looking out for him after I'd abandoned him. (Never mind that he had a serious drinking problem for the entirety of our seven-year marriage.)

I gave them the same half-smiles and head nods that they'd graced me with and I wondered to myself how miserable they must be if shallow conversations were still all they were capable of after all these years.

And then I realized something. Over the years, being purposely uninvited to events had hurt and there were many moments I felt incredibly left out. However, as I sat listening yesterday I realized I had no interest in being included anymore.

I just didn't fit in with the neighborhood moms. And I wasn't sad about it.

---

For my entire life, I have felt a bit socially awkward. I am not shy, however, I am reserved. I tend to sit back and listen rather than interact until I feel comfortable with someone. I struggle with surface-level conversations and would rather not put energy into them. I also have a snarky sense of humor that those pretending to be perfect are not sure what to do with.

And I can sense when people believe they are superior to me.

No, I am not married. I don't have a big house. My life doesn't revolve around the next new car, the next exotic vacation, or the next design on my fingernails. My life revolves around providing the best life possible for my kids the weeks they are with me, and self-care the weeks they are not.

Feeling left out is never a great feeling. If I'm honest, a small part of me felt envious of their apparently perfect lives as I sat there listening.

However, I also know that when people spend their time fluffing their peacock feathers and talking about how wonderful their material possessions are, there is an underlying sadness that they don't know how to speak about.

I know, because I was that woman when I first moved into the neighborhood. I thought buying a big house in a sought-after neighborhood would patch the gaping holes in my self-worth and my marriage.

But it didn't.

And when I was finally honest with myself  - I left it behind. And with that, I left behind the moms in the neighborhood, too.

---

Maybe I'll always be a loner. Maybe that's just how I'm hardwired. Or maybe I just don't meet people very often who are willing to cut the BS and talk about the things that truly matter to me. About the beauty of watching my children grow. About the painful, yet rewarding path to self-discovery. About the wonder of this human existence which we are both cursed and privileged to experience.

What I do know is that after spending seven years on the outside of the neighborhood mom clique looking in since my divorce  - I realized yesterday that I'm quite content being an outsider.

They can have their Friday night get-togethers, summer pool parties, and Sunday brunches to talk about things that aren't that important to me.

I'll take my simple, yet extraordinary life. My kids are happy and that's all that really matters to me.