Last week I opened my e-mail to discover an invitation to a local Mommy Mixer hosted by the amazing ladies from BirminghamMommy.com, and of course, it couldn't be any closer to what I've been screaming about for 3 years.

I grew up in Trussville, a medium-sized (at the time) suburb of Birmingham where I knew basically everyone and had no shortage of friends. Even if you weren't friends with someone, at some point in your socializing, you'd be forced to hang out with them anyways. That's just how it worked.

Although at the time I complained there was "nothing to do", I now realize that couldn't be farther from the truth as I've learned the true meaning of "nothing to do" - trapped in a house for weeks at a time with 2 young children and no one to talk to in human form.

You see, I now live 2 hours from my family and friends, in a "small town" (right outside of a "city" - if you could call it that), where I know no one. As in, not a single person. I find myself in a situation that I can neither control or fix.

Never having problems finding friends before, I assumed that the not-so-often discussed world of Finding Friends After Having Birthed Small People was an inviting land of play dates and casseroles. A comfortable abode in which I traded appetizer recipes and gabbed over a glass of wine on the weekends. I thought we'd all have something in common, surviving motherhood, and with a little luck and a killer quiche, I could totally nab a good friend or two to fill the position.

But the exact opposite has happened. I've mentioned going out with a few other moms from Conner's preschool, but nothing has panned out and it seems I'm just bothering them, in a sense. What it's come down to is me basically stalking McDonald's during the winter time for a "play date" buddy, only to appear more desperate than interesting, I'm sure.

Our common struggle is apparent - me versus another mom for which set of children could possibly scream any louder, which child can fend off another bite of chicken nugget, or who has lost their brother's shoe in the slide most often. I'll make small talk about how stir crazy the kids have gotten with the weather, or how cute their child's new bow is, but in the end I leave friendless and I'm not surprised. I'm not expecting to find my new b.f.f. inside a random McDonald's playground, at least not anymore.

The pressure to fit in, to not be the outcast, and the yearning to simply laugh with another mommy about the life of a stay-at-home mom is utterly crushing.

I try a little harder to make sure Conner's hair is groomed just so for preschool. I take extra steps to control Chase's inevitable 2-year-old tantrums in the midst of a Target run. I haven't run an errand in jeans, tennis shoes and a t-shirt in over a month.

Basically, I'm on a blind date with a whole city full of mommies.

The silver lining in this is that as I share my struggle via Twitter or on my blog, other moms have let me know they understand and many "transplants" can empathize - they too are "mommy dating" and hate this game. I'm lucky enough to have support from my far away friends. But as fair warning to the rest of the world, dating does not stop when you get married. Now if only I could find the classifieds section for "Mommy seeking Mommy".