The Truth About Making Friends as a Tired Mum

I think I’ve finally reached a point in my life where I’m happy with the number of friends I’ve made.

When my husband and I moved to Perth a few years ago, I was desperate to make new friends as soon as possible. I attended meet-ups, attempted to make friends with work colleagues, and tried to force friendships with people I already knew living over here, but the only thing we really had in common was that we both lived in Perth.

Ugh. It makes me tired just writing about it now.

I eventually started attending a monthly book club, and that kept me happy for a bit, but I was still always on the lookout for new people to meet.

Then my son came along. All of a sudden, trying to meet people and go places became almost impossible. In the first 12 months, we never knew when he’d be napping until right before we put him down, making it impossible to arrange to meet anyone at a specific time. Thankfully, I was still able to attend my book club, since it was in the evening when my husband was home from work.

I downloaded an app called Peanut, which is like Tinder, but for mums to make friends with other mums. I’ve been on Peanut for 19 months now, and I’ve made one actual friend, who I’ve caught up with three times over the course of about 14 months.

Can you tell I have a toddler? Time is always measured in months now.

The rest of the time, people will message, we’ll make small talk for a while, and eventually they’ll disappear. I’m just not interested in making small talk anymore.

I feel bad, but someone messaged me the other day, and the conversation went like this:

Peanut user: “Hi, how are you?”

Me: “I’m good, thanks. How are you?”

Peanut user: “Good.”

And that was the end of that. I’m sorry, but they messaged me, I expected them to add something to the “Good,” like asking a question about me or my son. But they didn’t, and I just can’t be bothered anymore, so I left it.

Last Friday, I finally caught up with the one friend I actually did make on Peanut. The last time I saw her, she was pregnant, and now her daughter is 11 months old. That’s how long it had been since we’d seen each other. This seems to happen a lot when two people have young children, it’s just too hard.

She messaged me and said she’d like to catch up. She said she was “happy to host,” which sounds so nice, but when she lives a 30-minute drive away, it’s not quite as appealing as it sounds. Still, I know what it’s like trying to go anywhere with a child under 12 months, and I knew it was easier for me to do the travelling.

During the conversation, we discovered that afternoons are better for her, and mornings are better for me. We messaged back and forth about times, and we finally found a one-hour window in the morning when both our children would be awake, so we locked it in.

On the morning of our catch-up, my son had just figured out how to open the pantry door. I’d spent the entire morning stopping him from getting into it, and then dealing with the tantrums when he couldn’t do what he wanted.

I was hoping a trip to my friend’s house would make me feel better. I packed him into the car and made the 30-minute drive. I’m pleased to say I made it without taking any wrong turns, but I still find driving on freeways stressful, especially working out what lane you need to be in and which exit you need to take. Since I was already feeling frazzled, this just made things worse.

We made it to her house, and I sat down and took a deep breath. Then my son came over to the table and said, “More please.” This phrase means he wants something to happen; it doesn’t necessarily have to be “more” of something. He was indicating that he wanted a snack, and my friend said he could have some of the apple she was feeding her daughter.

Well, he had one piece of apple, gagged on it, and threw up all over himself and me.

He’s never done that before, so I was in total shock!

I’m not one of those organised mothers who brings a change of clothes for herself, so I had to clean myself up with wet wipes as best I could, and sit there for the next hour, soggy and smelly. Once again, my stress levels increased.

I then spent the rest of the hour trying to stop my son from destroying their baby gate, and shutting his fingers in their balcony door he insisted on opening and closing. Then he kept saying, “More please,” but refused every snack I bought and instead helped himself to the other baby’s stash.

And just like that, our hour was up, and it was time to go. I was actually relieved.

Of course, he was playing with some toys that belonged to the other child, and he didn’t want to give them up. Once I managed to pry them out of his hands, he threw himself on the floor crying, and I had to carry him out kicking and screaming.

We got back in the car, and I was once again trying to navigate my way home on the stressful freeway. Then he started crying and saying, “Park,” like he wanted me to take him to the park.

Luckily, I know songs usually keep him happy, so I spent the last 20 minutes of the drive home singing Baby Shark on repeat.

We finally made it home. I put him down for a nap, had a shower, changed my clothes, and breathed a sigh of relief.

That’s when I decided: making friends and catching up with people is just too hard right now! I have my book club which meets once a month. We have one couple we catch up with a few times a year. I have the one friend from Peanut. And I have a good friend who lives in Sydney, who I meet up with at least once a year for a messy night out.

I think for now, that’s the perfect number of friends for this tired mama.