I have a new friend I met on the internet. I read her blog and liked it; she read my blog and liked it. Now we’re feeling out a friendship. She writes to me, and I wait a day to reply so I don’t look too clingy. I volunteer a little personal information–but not too much. She volunteers a little more personal information than I did, but then she makes her email shorter so it evens out. We’re playing it cool.

One of the first conversations I had with Joy was about how little we cared if other mothers made choices that were different from ours. We agreed that our attitude was this: That of course we think our own way is the best way, since that’s the way we’ve chosen; but that we don’t think that is the best way for OTHER mothers, necessarily. Other mothers are other people, and their children are different from our children, and their families are different, and their priorities are different. Obviously we won’t all choose the same selection from the cafeteria of choices.

Even though we’ve had this conversation, I still worry that Joy will disapprove of my way. She mentions feeding her daughter Annie’s Cheddar Bunnies, and I look sidelong at the bag of Goldfish crackers I’m feeding the twins and think, “Dang.”