After shopping, we planned to have coffee or lunch and catch up on each other's lives.

I knew I was in trouble when "catching up on each other's lives" turned into a nonstop monologue about the lives of Karen's children. She has two, a son and a daughter, both in their late 20s.

I was treated to a running commentary throughout the entire morning:

"I need new kitchen utensils. Look at this great package of stuff. Good price. But Kathy needs it more; she just got a new apartment. Oh, did I tell you? Her father says if she keeps her job for another year, he is going to treat her to a trip to Greece. She has always wanted to go to Greece. I'll get a package of these for her."

"Look at this great set of dishes. Ron's wife -- you know, Debbie -- could use these. She loves this color. I wish she would stop worrying about her figure and get pregnant. I am dying to give a baby shower."

"Have I told you that Kathy has a new boyfriend? Well, he's not really new. You remember her old one, Michael, who treated her so badly before he started going to that men's group? Well, it seems he had a friend named Paul ..."

After two hours of nonstop kid talk, I decided to take action. I began to talk about my friend, Hannah, whom Karen has met a couple of times, briefly.

"Have I told you about Hannah's new job?" I queried. I went on to describe it in great detail, adding some of Hannah's recent concerns about her car not running well, her husband's retirement package and the new kitchen they are adding to their home. Karen looked puzzled.

What is it with mothers, anyway? (I leave fathers out of this because, bless them, they seldom are guilty of this particular sin.) Does someone swoop down upon them from Planet Parenthood and steal their souls, leaving them virtually lifeless, able to live only through their children's adventures?

And what do these women do when they are with other moms? I doubt that even the most maternal of mothers cares a whit about the exploits of other people's children, and, yet, she is dying to talk about her own. What to do? I imagine they must arm wrestle or something: The winner gets to jabber on about her kids, while the loser has to shut up and grudgingly allow it.

Well, speaking as a nonparent, please count me out of this.

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