Every Sunday morning, I get a recap of the previous night’s Jugs. Currently, local (Charlotte area) Jugs sits at five: Miss Manners, Stitches, Nice-Nice, Prom Queen and Lady Beaver of the Syllables. I’m in Raleigh — and I haven’t been back since March because I’m still recovering from surgery — while Mary F. Poppins is in Portland and our new Jug doesn’t live in Charlotte yet.
I miss them. Nice-Nice and Stitches had their babies, and it bothers me that I haven’t met them yet. I want to be there for my friends while they make these big life transitions. Hell, I want to be there for tiny little non-important stuff too.
I once heard us — Jugs, collectively — referred to as exclusive or clique-y, and snobby.
“How dare they label us…” I started to say, deeply offended, and then finished with, “completely accurately.”
It’s true — maybe not the snobby part, so much, but we are exclusive. Not because we don’t welcome others, but at this point Jugs has been together for over two years, and it would be difficult to catch them up to speed.
Just sharing my epic butt history could take hours. And would include a video that Miss Manners took when she accompanied me to an appointment with Dr. McSweetcheeks in which he went spelunking, as I call it.
But Jugs is special, I know that. We’re a group of diverse women. Three Jugs are not American. Half of us work outside the home, the other half are “just” moms. We have very different backgrounds — one Jug worked as a clown, and actually lived in a cave for years.
What we have in common is that we’re all attachment-moms, and we’ve all breastfed (hence the name Jugs!)
But really our most salient feature is that we each put a premium on our time together. We are all busy and tired and stressed — but we always show up for Jugs anyway. Sometimes we’re late, sometimes we have to bring a kid or two with us — or leave early to get home — but we’re there. (The great Jugs Plague of early 2011 notwithstanding. We each got the flu. It sucked.)
Anyone could find a group of friends and have their own Jugs. But I don’t have Jugs here, and I’ve never had Jugs in any of the other places which I’ve lived. It takes commitment. It takes willingness. It takes trusting and honesty, and an equal desire for close friendship and companionship.
We’re not snobs, but we know what we have is special. Don’t waste time thinking about us; go try to make or find your own Jugs!