More Than Water: Why Moms Need Wells

When another mom dropped off her daughter for my son’s first playdate, I (Tara) thought, Why isn’t she leaving? Is she checking for outlet covers? Making sure we have locks on the booze cabinet?

This was our first year of preschool. We hadn’t done the playdate thing before. So when she asked, I said yes, we picked a time, and I quietly imagined a productive little window for myself. The kids would play. I would get things done. Why hadn’t I done this sooner?

But when she arrived, she didn’t just drop her daughter off. She lingered. She smiled. She took her off her coat.

After a slightly awkward pause, I asked, “Oh! Would you like to stay?”

She laughed, kindly, and said, “That’s usually how it works when they’re this age.”

How did I miss this? Where do you even learn playdate etiquette?!

I didn’t know it then, but she was offering me something I didn’t even realize I needed. I had close friends, so I hadn’t noticed that I hadn’t made a single new mom friend since my boys were born. But I needed them. And I’m so grateful Jen took off her coat and showed me “how it works.”

Because here’s the truth: a lot of moms are lonely.

Not obviously lonely. Not “no one to text” lonely. But quietly, internally, carry-it-all-yourself lonely. We are surrounded by people - small, loud, needy people -and can still feel like no one quite sees what it’s like to be us in the middle of it all.

For the kind of friendships we’re longing for, we need something like a well.

In ancient times (and in many places today), women gathered at wells to draw water for their families. It was hard, daily work - but it was also where they saw each other. They walked together, waited together, talked while they worked. Life happened there, side by side.

We have our own versions now: playgrounds, sidelines, group texts, living rooms. Places where moms cross paths. But those spaces only become “wells” when we slow down long enough to actually be together. When we open up and say how we’re really doing. When we listen to how other moms are doing without judgement or advice.

That afternoon in my kitchen didn’t look like much. The kids ran in and out. Someone spilled something. We talked about husbands and schedules and why they still couldn’t zip their coats.

But underneath it, something else was happening. We weren’t just hosting a playdate. We were building a well.

And I almost missed it because I thought she was supposed to leave.

So maybe that’s the shift: not adding one more thing to our calendars, but staying a little longer in the things we’re already doing. Letting the mom stay. Sitting down instead of hovering. Turning a quick drop-off into something more.

We don’t need a big plan. Just a little more time, a little more openness.

That’s usually how it works.