I Sold My Soul to the Suburbs

They say you can never go back home. But here I am. After living in the city for 15 years, raising my two kids on subways, 25-cent pizza slices, taxi horns and trips to Central Park, I moved back to my—gasp!—hometown. Part of me felt like a failure to move back home, but in my heart, I knew it was the best thing for my family. I know every gas station and liquor store that is lenient to teens. We didn’t have tracking devices or GPS where I grew up, Long Island. If you said you were “going to the beach,” that beach could very well be 70 miles away. Sleepovers, midnight pool parties, concerts in the city, raves in the woods, sneaking our way around on the LIRR with Mike’s Hard Lemonade in tow to see The Allman Brothers at the Beacon every year…. I know what it’s like to be a kid living in my neighborhood—but as a parent? It was like going back to high school. Let me explain.

I've never been someone who cared about belonging to a girl group, but rather, always enjoyed being with people who made me feel good about myself. Freshmen year of college, it was apparent to me that I was not cut from the same cloth as many of other girls who gravitated towards each other due to shared interests, personalities or home states. My best friends were my polar opposites. One was a goalie on the women’s hockey team from North Reading, MA; another, a San Diego beach girl with Coke-bottle glasses and a love for trips to Salvation Army. Me? I was the girl from an all-girl Catholic school in Long Island, who played in the band and sat on the prom committee. (I thought it was cool to be in every club! Little did I know. But that’s another story.)

Things were no different when I moved to the city. I had my eco-activist, Onda-Beauty-shopping mom friend, who hasn't seen plastic in her home since 2004, as well as the supreme hostess friend, who has everyone in her home for the most delicious dinners. It didn't matter that we didn't see each other constantly—or that we weren't all one big group. We were all nomads in our friendships.

So my first reaction, after moving back to the burbs, was to pick up from where I left off. Be a nomad.

But something was missing. A sense of community—was that it? What did that mean to me now that the numbers dwindled? I hate to use this analogy, but when you’re living in the city, the energy and human contact, noise, music, scents and sounds make it easy to feel like you're part of something larger, bigger. Living in a town with two stoplights—the silence can be deafening. It's harder to be a blissful nomad when you don’t see many people during the day.

It became very clear that, as a mom, as a woman of the community, I needed to learn how to ask for help. I needed to learn how to be a nomad but also find a tribe.

Luckily, I did find a cacophony of a tribe. These women are all different and with diverse backgrounds: Many work from home, many in the city, some are the breadwinners, some run a tight ship at home as the CEO of the family, and the majority have never lived here before. I've learned to lean on them in a way in a way I have never done before.

As we get older, I think we need to keep our nomadic tendencies—I continue to be a nomad at heart—while still finding a tribe. Be open to new people, new experiences—what’s up, Mahjong Social Club?!—and remember the majority of people are feeling exactly how you feel.

So did I sell my soul to the suburbs? You’re damn right I did. And I’m diving in headfirst.

As adults, we don't think about growing our tribe. “I don’t need any more friends,” you think, as you navigate school drop-offs, PTA meetings, socializing with neighbors or your work family. But you will, in fact, need certain types of women in your life. Motherhood is a group game. So keep your eyes open for these ladies, as they will surely be fabulous additions to your circle.

The Chill Factor
If she still has her makeup on from last night—this is a good sign. This is a clear indicator she is willing to let her hair down and drink a glass (or pitcher) of tequila with you. After all, there is no I in booze.

This Is CNN-Meets-Netflix & Swill
She watches something other than The Real Housewives, has solid conversations about current events and is someone your daughters can look up to—and is also a Wikipedia for any Bravo show and never turns down a glass of Pinot Noir. She’s the Rain Man of pop culture and politics.

The Breadwinner
I love this friend so hard. She doesn’t make her husband feel less and is the biggest team player, especially for nights out. We wax poetic on how working full time vs. working from home is your ubiquitous “grass is always greener” conversation, but you just love how badass she is that she runs the show. How involved is she at school, you ask? Dipping your toes into school involvement is about quality, not quantity. Overachievers need not apply here.

The Queen of Meme
She quotes Anchorman or Dazed and Confused—or any film other than Pretty Woman, for that matter. Humor is essential. Her meme game is spot on—you can have entire conversations with perfectly curated choices.

90s Hip Hop = The Classics
You totally caught them lowering Backspin radio when approaching drop-off with the headmaster nearby. Ba-ba-baaaaby. It was all a dream! This one’s a keeper.

The Event Planner
She fires off the first text/email/conversation with new restaurant info, dates available and any other interesting ideas for post-kid plans. Your tribe must convene over food and beverages. Even if once a month, it’s imperative to have status updates with fellow members.

The Poacher
Everyone is essentially an ex-pat from somewhere. This friend poaches families and convinces them to move to the hood, and join clubs. More faces, more tribes, more fun.

The Belle
Oh, how I love my Southern girls! Before, I thought “Bless her heart” was a lovely compliment. Little did I know it’s always the start to a lurid conversation. Kacey Musgraves is on repeat, their house is like a giant warm hug, the bourbon flows like the Mississippi River, and they love your sometimes indelicate New York sharp tongue.

The Grandma
She thinks she is “soooo old” but none the wiser. Also, she’s like four years older, not 14. She takes care of everyone and, like The Event Planner, evenings always end up at her place and parties harder than anyone in her age bracket. You love her because she thinks you’re a baby and yet your kids are the same age. It’s the best joke you have with each other.

Kelly Florio Kasouf is an author, essayist and longtime magazine vet. Read her other stories on VB Edit here and here.