I Am The Desperate Mom Friend Organizer You’re Going to Like More Than You Think

I have, at times, hated everything about myself for being this person. I am “such a mom,” the comic foil in every situation, like Brooke in The Five Star Weekend or really any next door neighbor in any ‘90s-era sitcom. Some people can’t stand this mom which means they probably can’t stand me, an extroverted, excited, earnest mom trying too hard and fumbling around for a good sun hat.

I have no fewer than four sun hats and, much like Brooke, would absolutely overpack for a weekend in Nantucket if I was ever invited to Nantucket. The problem is I’m not sure if I would be invited to Nantucket by a cool group of moms. I think I would get on their nerves.

I have grown accustomed to eye rolls fully visible in my presence, affectionate smirks when I mention my Christmas party theme (pajamas around the bonfire! Caroling around the piano!) in July. I send out group texts with titles like “Girls’ Weekend #4” or “Adult Pumpkin Carving??” or “Group Choir!” I am, at times, a human exclamation point.

My need to organize, to include, to make fun happen for every single person around me has felt like a tic I would desperately love to get under control. For years I wanted to be able to bake cookies without suggesting a bake sale fundraiser or start wondering if I should add a cookie cupboard to the end of my driveway. I’ve wished I could watch a movie without asking my friends if we should consider a film club where we just watch romantic comedies.

My friends — who, I promise, are kind and true and do, in fact, have my best wishes at heart — have wished I was different too. I’ve been secretly and then openly mortified to hear other friends secretly and then openly mocking me. I’ve pretended to laugh as I passed around a charcuterie board and pretended that it didn’t embarrass me to be seen as this kind of caricature, a human meme.

I tried to take up less space when I worried I was too much, too present, too excited to take the wheel. I took a break from being me for about three months, an eternity for me. No plans for the weekend, no plans for a Wednesday, no plans for a rainy Sunday afternoon when I would normally ask a few girlfriends over to play Rummikub and eat various dips.