My living room is filled with

piles and piles of dirty laundry. Mike put them all into baskets after I sorted them. Our dryer isn't working, so suddenly we're looking at a massive trip to the laundrymat again. Which, in some ways, I miss. It's this designated time to do laundry rather than this endless pile that accumulates and is never finished.

Over the past few months, I've been going through some strange, unfamiliar feelings. The first is feeling slightly vulernable. I used to feel very confident that everyone would like me, and it's probably because I work hard to make that happen. But lately, my identity as a mother (with other moms) is feeling very off. I've never experienced the kind of alienation that I feel when I'm around them. I'm not accepted into the Mother's world, and it seems like no matter how hard I try, there's something weird going on. I've wondered if it's because they can smell smoke on me and feel like I'm a bad mother. It might be this. It's a reoccurring thing.

I had a playdate on Friday, and this was the worst, most torturous playdate yet. The child would not play with Emmett. He had no interest in us. The mother was nice, but not trying to encourage interaction. So Emmett was running around (oblivious to this) and playing by himself. I was trying to talk to the mom, but far too aware of the differences between our children and that this kid was not interested in my son.

I should say, that for all the times I've said "Emmett is a genius", this child made me realize it's not true. Emmett's smart, but that's not his main/only quality. This kid was pronouncing facts to me. The streak of childlike, whirling fun that Emmett has, was not present. This boy was only three, and was critiquing his mother's turkey drawings, demanding she do a better job on the hat, and reciting the first and last names of the children he goes to daycare with. His thing was reciting facts and understanding how things work. This boy IS a genius. Emmett is a kid.

Last night was complicated. I'm emotionally exhausted. This job hasn't begun and has a tight deadline. The playdate made me feel (once again) like an outcast. I'm feeling unsure of my friendships. I'm feeling insecure about how Mike and I approach marriage and parenting. In all my years as a "fringe" person, this is the first time in my life I've truly felt like an outcast. It's very hard to feel secure about the way you are when other people are doing things so differently.

And I can't help but to see the analogy of all these piles of dirty clothes, just now sorted, and feeling like it's reflective of my emotional state.