When my little ones were in their early years, a lively crew of six to eight moms gathered every Monday at Rachel’s house. The scene was a beautiful chaos: babies nestled in our arms or just mastering their first wobbly steps, while the older homeschooled kids dashed around, teaching toddlers the fine art of climbing over baby gates.
Each week, we brought snacks—Rachel’s famous nugget platter was a crowd-pleaser. We indulged in cake, savored cheese, sipped sweet tea, and shared endless conversations. Rachel even demonstrated how to nurse while lying down, so one mom could snag some much-needed shut-eye. Together, we explored baby-wearing techniques, discussed co-sleeping, and nursed each other’s babies. It was a genuine mom tribe, and it felt wonderful.
Then Rachel moved away, and everything changed.
I once belonged to a local babywearing group, but as my interest waned and my rambunctious 5-year-old kept getting scolded at meetings, I slowly drifted away. It was a tough loss since we had supported one another through the tragic loss of one mom’s daughter. But when the drama began to unfold in multiple Facebook threads, I knew it was time to go.
Now, I find myself without a mom tribe, and it stinks. Sure, I have mom friends—plenty of them. There’s one I love to kayak and hike with, another who shares my passion for writing, one who always manages to make me laugh, and a longtime friend who’s been through it all with me. I even have a handful of homeschooling moms in my circle. Yet, I can’t seem to connect with the homeschooling crowd, who are perpetually busy and rarely available to hang out. The moms in one co-op are sweet, but I often feel like they’re just trying to see the good in me for their own reasons. We don’t share many interests, and, you guessed it, they’re too busy.
In the past year and a half, three of my closest mom friends have moved away. The last one packed up for Ohio, leaving me without anyone to call for a quick trip to Target. Now, I’m down to just one mom who will still meet me there. We used to go in groups, not just for shopping but for fun. Now, it’s just me and my kids, navigating a cranky and whiny experience. My shopping habits have changed. I buy fewer cute clothes that I used to find on clearance, and I certainly don’t have time to linger in the Starbucks or makeup aisles. My kids couldn’t care less about bargains!
What’s more, I have a serious shortage of reliable babysitters. Before, I had three trustworthy moms I could call on. Now, I hesitate to ask my homeschooling friends, knowing I’d be interrupting their school day. Some of my mom friends are okay with watching my oldest, but I’m not sure about my nearly 3-year-old. Scheduling my own doctor appointments has turned into a logistical nightmare, as I have to coordinate them around my husband’s work schedule. I’m still dealing with an unresolved issue with my eye because I can’t find the time to see a specialist. Forget visits to the gynecologist, eye doctor, or even a therapist, let alone a moment to pamper myself—I’ll be lucky if I can get my nails done anytime soon.
But the biggest loss? The advice. A solid mom tribe, like Rachel’s, is a wealth of knowledge. They have kids of various ages, serving as a great gauge for “normal” behavior. Is it typical for a 6-year-old to throw tantrums? When do I stop using cloth diapers and start potty training my 3-year-old? I need someone to reassure me that it’s okay my 5-year-old doesn’t recognize his letters yet and that my 6-year-old can’t tie his shoes. I also crave those moments when a mom tells me how sweet my kids are or how well they’re doing. We all need that kind of validation sometimes.
The internet offers some solace. I’m part of an amazing group of moms who support each other, cheer each other on, and tackle questions together. But it can’t replace the in-person playdates or girls’ nights out. There’s always a screen between us, even though we genuinely care for one another. It’s a double-edged sword.
Creating a mom tribe isn’t something you can force—it either happens or it doesn’t. I’m left hoping that, like a storm brewing in warm waters, a genuine tribe will form around me. As for parenting choices—be it formula feeding, co-sleeping, or unschooling—I don’t care anymore. If you’re up for hanging out at Target, you’re in!
In summary, while I have mom friends, what I truly miss is that deep connection—a mom tribe that offers support, understanding, and a shared experience. Whether it’s finding the right advice or simply enjoying some laughs together, having a true mom tribe makes all the difference.