The end of that year was basically a blur. There were so many changes going on and time to yet again rebuild myself and my family. I moved us into a better neighborhood, I changed jobs and I was on the move. Things were going to start happening for me, I could just feel it. You know, like in West Side Story…”Something’s coming I don’t know, what it is, but it is gonna be great” I could feel it all around me. I closed out that year by putting my kids into sports and other events locally through our new town and their new schools. I would get up, drop them at before care, head to work, come back and get them from after care and hopefully make it to practice or a game in time. I seemed to be the only one in a suit at practices. I would come, ill-equipped with my beach chair and my heels instead of the apparent step ford wives uniform of capris pants and little sneakers and a field chair. I had no idea what I was doing when it came to my kids and sports. I played sports, I knew the games, but this was some underground, cult like community where everyone dressed the same, brought their water bottles or coffee “to go” mugs filled with I don’t know what and relaxed amongst each other deep in conversation, not paying much mind to the sport that was actually taking place. I felt more like my kids nanny, than their mother. I would introduce myself to the coaches and I can always remember walking away feeling the eyes hot on the back of my head…or my ass for that matter. People knew me, I mean I knew people, but no one really knew me. I was finally in town and thought it was time to make some friends. But these clicks were harder to crack then Fort Knox. I also wanted to wait and see which one would suit me best. It was like trying on a pair of jeans and hoping they didn’t gap in the back and let your business show through. I went, night after night, to what seemed like endless practices and sat mostly by myself smiling at moms as they walked by. Finally….someone spoke to me. She was quiet and refined and I wasn’t even sure she was talking to me at first. She introduced herself and then I, and the conversation began and it never stopped. We introduced our children to one another and she invited me to go to a church event. An outdoor nativity scene. I, in turn invited her to my church Christmas concert. We each attended these events and I can remember clearly her asking me if I was married. I explained the story of the latest “being left” on Thanksgiving debacle. Holidays, Birthdays and major calendar events were beginning to be off-limits to me being I had either gotten proposed to or left on one of these joyous occasions. We soon became a twosome, even though she was already part of a twosome. Which technically would have made us a threesome, but the other half of her first twosome and I didn’t mesh very well together. Her first twosome half and I were very similar in a lot of ways: outgoing, bossy, loud, funny, attractive. Not sure why we both needed her to be the sole part of our own twosome, but there was definitely competition there at first. Which seems silly now when I think about it, cause really, we all have more than enough of ourselves to go around. Still. We each wanted her to ourselves. She did a really great job of putting us together a lot at first. I was definitely the outsider coming in. New person, new kids to accommodate, new expectations and things to plan. I can remember one time we were at the town pool together and neither of us would sit with her cause we wanted her to choose who she wanted to be with. Like we were in High School and 3 is always a crowd. She didn’t choose. She was smooth like that. She stayed exactly where she was and didn’t move. All three of us in the same place with our kids sitting about 50 feet away from each other. Not sure what it proved other than if we wanted her we were going to have to figure out how to operate as a threesome. It’s funny cause 3 has always been my favorite number. Me and my two girls = 3. Now 3 would end up being my favorite number cause of me and my two best friends. How many times are we looking for just that one other person? How many times do we want the undivided attention of one person? Three can definitely be a crowd, but if surrounded by the right two people….three can also become your favorite number.